God Switch
by Del Rion
Summary: The Truce between men and Machines is threatened by a radical group called 'the Cleansers'. Steve Rogers, the captain of a hovercraft named 'The Avenger', takes his crew to find the ultimate weapon the Cleansers are looking for, and reunites with an old friend whom he'd thought long dead. [see entire summary in fic...] Sequel to "Creator".
1. The Past and Present of Steve Rogers

**Story Info**

**Title:** God Switch

**Author:** Del Rion

**Fandoms:** Iron Man & Captain America & The Avengers (MCU) / The Matrix

**Genre:** Action, sci-fi, drama

**Rating:** M / FRM

**Characters:** Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Jane Foster, Darcy Lewis, Loki, Steve Rogers (Captain America), Natasha Romanoff, Betty Ross, Tony Stark (Iron Man), Thor.  
_Guest appearances:_ The Architect, Emil Blonsky, Phil Coulson, JARVIS, The Merovingian, The Oracle, Persephone, Thaddeus Ross, Sati, Erik Selvig, Seraph, Samuel Sterns, Glenn Talbot.

**Pairings:** Betty/Bruce, Clint/Darcy/Natasha, Jane/Thor, implied Merovingian/Persephone

**Summary:** The Truce between men and Machines is threatened by a radical group called 'the Cleansers'. Steve Rogers, the captain of a hovercraft named '_The Avenger_', takes his crew to find the ultimate weapon the Cleansers are looking for, and reunites with an old friend whom he'd thought long dead. How is Tony Stark connected to their mission, and does a weapon exist that could destroy the Machines?  
Complete. Sequel to "Creator".

**Written for:** _Science Fiction & Fantasy Big Bang_'s Round 5.  
Also fills the "free space" square on my card in _Trope Bingo_'s Round 2 (used trope: "au: fusion").

**Artist:** raktajinos (AO3/LJ) – see banner: archiveofourown . 0rg / works/934693

**Warnings:** Language, canonical violence.

**Disclaimer:** Iron Man, Captain America, The Avengers & Marvel Cinematic Universe, including characters and everything else, belong to Marvel, Marvel Studios, Jon Favreau, Shane Black, Joss Whedon, Joe Johnston, Paramount Pictures and Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures. The Matrix franchise belongs to siblings Wachowski, Warner Bros. Pictures and all other involved parties. In short: I own nothing; this is pure fiction created to entertain likeminded fans for no profit whatsoever.

**Beta:** Mythra

**Feedback:** Very welcome indeed, seeing as I'm only playing with _The Matrix_ for the second time.

* * *

**About ****_God Switch_****:** This is a fusion story, far as I understand the term.

To clear things up: Tony Stark and Steve Rogers come with their original backgrounds, being Iron Man and Captain America, respectively. (At this point I urge you to read my other fic, "Creator", because that explains some things concerning the backstory.) The other Avengers don't "exist" in this verse – however, they shall be implanted and integrated into the story in other ways (without powers).

* * *

**Chapters and statuses:** Below you see the writing process of the story's chapters. If there is no text after the chapter's title, then it is finished and checked. Possible updates shall be marked after the title.

**Chapter 1: The Past and Present of Steve Rogers**  
**Chapter 2: The Avenger**  
**Chapter 3: The Cleansing**  
**Chapter 4: The Oracle**  
**Chapter 5: What Is or Isn't in Malibu**  
**Chapter 6: The Map to Machine City**  
**Chapter 7: Plan of Attack**  
**Chapter 8: Family Reunions**  
**Chapter 9: The Merovingian**  
**Chapter 10: The Weapon**  
**Chapter 11: Negotiations**  
**Chapter 12: Dreaming the Morrow**

* * *

. . .

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Past and Present of Steve Rogers**

* * *

Steve couldn't remember the exact time period in which Man had mastered the creation of fire. Back when they'd still lived in caves, probably, and perhaps that's why he remembered it now, looking at the tiny flickering flame casting large shadows on the walls of his hideout that was little more than a cave. It had been a while since he'd been able to find something to burn, to banish the darkness, and it hurt his eyes a little, but at the same time it sparked that old glimmer of hope in his chest.

The flickering flame would give him strength to go on until he found something edible. After all, the light always reminded him of the old days, and he could spend hours upon hours reminiscing, sinking deeper into what had been before the world fell into darkness. More often than not he thought about the time before the ice; not because it was clearer in his mind, but because it was easier.

Steve Rogers had lived three lifetimes.

The first lifetime was before and during World War II, when he had first become a hero. A soldier. He had been transformed from a weakling into a super-soldier; he'd fought Nazis, HYDRA, and eventually gave his life to protect the world from Red Skull's master plan.

He had ended up in the ice for almost seven decades, after which he awoke to his second lifetime in the twenty-first century. Steve was still Captain America, but unlike in wartime when he had been a solider among others, in the new century he became a full-fledged superhero; he had continued to fight the good fight to protect humanity and defend the weak and hunt down the wicked.

He hadn't been alone in that fight: Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man, had fought alongside him, wearing his high-tech armor and trying to make the world a better place. They had clashed, due to personal differences, but eventually became friends – for which Steve was glad as the years rolled by and the people he had come to know after the ice passed away, one after another.

Tony, however, had inserted into himself a nanotechnology called Extremis, which enabled him to do something people called 'technopathy'. Steve hadn't been sure what it meant, even then, but Tony had always felt connected to machines and technology, and the Extremis enabled him to communicate with them. It had also given him regenerative powers, and one perk among many was that Tony no longer aged.

As the world moved on, Tony and Steve stayed the same, standing side by side; Captain America and Iron Man…

Steve huffed, looking at the small flame. He could remember Tony's laugh if he tried hard enough; he recalled the smile on his face, the quirk of his brow, the lines on his skin that marked the hardships he had gone through. He held onto the memories for a while, taking himself back in time, into the sunny space of Tony's home where they had often sat, reminiscing about the past and people they had met – and lost – trying to look ahead.

To convince themselves that they had been fighting the good fight.

It had been in those days that the AI was created, to brighten humanity's future and aid their endeavors. They had been little more than robots in Steve's eyes; smarter, perhaps, than the robots that had already existed, but Steve had had the privilege to interact with Tony's personal AI, JARVIS, and he knew the new Artificial Intelligence was far from JARVIS' abilities. Of course, if he had broached the subject with Tony, he would have either gotten an extensive lecture on how the new AI was still evolving – or troubled silence because Steve had known, even then, that Tony never told anyone what he really thought of the new AI, and his own involvement in its creation.

That had been the beginning of his third lifetime.

The Machine War had loomed on the horizon.

Steve had lived through the things that preceded it: the fight for Machine rights, the rise of their own city, the tilt in infrastructure and the bombing of Machine City.

Before the bombs had been dropped, Steve had carefully watched Tony for reactions, knowing the man had insights that their world leaders could only hope for. While no one had asked for Tony's input or opinion, it had been clear he opposed the direction humanity was taking against the Machines, and Steve had steered clear of the approaching battle.

Then Tony had gone to visit Zero One just before the nuclear attack vaporized Machine City, and was never to be seen again. JARVIS had gone silent in the aftermath, and Steve had been forced to admit defeat: his best friend was gone.

The war that followed had been brutal: the Machines had withstood the attack on their city and replied in kind. The humans had torched the skies in desperation, but the tide had inexorably been turned against them. Billions had died. Thousands had been taken by the Machines, experimented on. Steve had been one of the few survivors who hid and sometimes rebelled, but with dwindling resources many of them had been hunted down and efficiently destroyed.

Steve knew he could have made a stand. He could have rallied up the troops behind him, because Captain America still meant something to the people. He hadn't; before the war, he had told anyone who listened that the right course of action did not lead to another war. They had not listened. Instead he had tried to protect those few who remained with him, but one by one they fell, from malnutrition, injuries and maladies.

Steve had pushed on.

He had seen the power plants rise; fields of humans used as a new power source for the Machines.

Eventually, he had found survivors, and the city far beneath the Earth's surface: Zion. That had been when he first heard of the Matrix. Those who had escaped it had a hard time describing it, other than as a lie thrown across their eyes that was almost perfectly believable. A dream.

At the time Steve had wished, like so many others, to save those who remained locked within the Matrix, and to lead them to the real world. However, seeing as he was missing the headjack – a component all the people released from the Matrix had inserted into the backs of their heads – he couldn't do that.

So instead Steve had helped the best he could, and at one point it had seemed like humanity was winning when the One was discovered – a man with a deeper connection to the Matrix, tilting the balance in their favor. They had dreamt of saving humanity back in those days, and of overthrowing the Machines.

Not much later, the Machines had come and destroyed Zion and its population.

The One was lost.

Steve had escaped with his life and very few others. The group split up due to differences, and eventually Steve had once again been the lone survivor of his own group and wandered the wasteland for a time before heading back to see whether anyone else had made it and deemed it safe to return to where Zion had once stood.

There had been people there, and the rebuilding of Zion had already begun. Steve had gladly joined them.

Then more escapees from the Matrix had arrived, and Steve felt a strange sense of déjà-vu: it was the same as before, all over again; as if their past struggles to free people had been for naught, as no one could remember it. Zion had been growing and strengthening, however, so Steve had let it go and enjoyed the life he had.

His suspicions had grown exponentially when another One was discovered – a man who once again led the people in a struggle against the Machines. And just like before, Zion had eventually come under a direct attack from the Machines.

Steve had almost died that time.

He'd also lost his shield, which he had managed to cling to until then.

When he'd crawled into the darkness of long-abandoned tunnels that couldn't fit the Sentinels, he had considered his options. When he'd grown stronger, he had wandered on his own, but eventually his weakness had grown and he returned to Zion – finding it once again rebuilt and inhabited.

Steve had found the ones in power and told them that he'd already seen this happen twice before. However, his words had not been met with kindness, and as the years rolled by, Steve had felt the impending sensation of doom. Then the One had been discovered once more, and he had left; Steve had refused to see Zion destroyed for a third time.

Whenever Steve had given into the weakness and returned, he found the cycle repeating itself. Some people he spoke to believed him, but not those who mattered. Perhaps it was human nature, wanting to believe they had a choice in the matter; that their lives weren't part of a pattern. That once they escaped the Matrix, they were free.

Five times, he counted.

He hadn't been there for all of them, not at the crucial moment, but he could do the math. It was like a horrible game for the Machines, yet each time Steve hoped it would end differently. That mankind would triumph in the final battle.

They never did. Thousands were killed and life was rebooted to start all over again.

As much as the isolation hurt him, Steve guessed exile was better, because how could he live with himself when he failed over and over again to convince the leaders of Zion that their lives were meaningless unless they changed the pattern?

He was once again nearing the time when he itched for company; when he would break down and make his way down to Zion, one agonizing mile at a time, knowing that he would find a place there if he told no one of the life he had lived. After all, if he told them he remembered the time before the Machines, they would not believe whatever he said next.

Steve told himself he would be stronger this time. He didn't need to see Zion destroyed or another senseless war taking place. He didn't want to get to know people he couldn't protect, couldn't save. Sure, he entertained the idea that he could gather a close circle of friends and lead them away from the city when the time grew near to Zion's destruction. To build a place of their own. After all, he had traveled far and wide in his time, and while the skies were still black, the Machines did not move far from the new city they had built on top of the ruins of the old one. If they went far enough, perhaps they could establish a community that wasn't part of the system the Machines had clearly created with Zion.

The small flame flickered and went out, startling him. He felt a draft against the skin of his ankle, and somewhere far beneath him, something crashed. The floor shook. Steve knew he wasn't close enough for usual Machine activity, which meant the possibility of a lost vessel, or something out of the ordinary.

He picked up his pack, worn but still able to carry his meager belongings, then left the shelter which may have once been the sub-basement of a building. Steve picked a path through the darkness, his eyes used to it, hands and feet moving with agile grace along the nooks and crannies in the walls of the sewers that provided pathways to follow. He didn't want to count the number of years he had spent walking around while his body struggled to survive without proper nourishment, and he wished to see the sun more than anything. For years he had traveled paths like this, and he knew how to navigate them silently and make sure he had several exists in case he was faced by Machines.

Ending up at a wider tunnel, he looked around. Far away in the darkness, beyond a curve, he saw something blue-ish sparkle. He made his way towards it, looking for a weapon as he went. The air was not as clear as above, almost as if unwilling to fill his lungs, but his body adapted as he moved forward, silent and unnoticed.

As he moved around the curve, he could see the somewhat familiar shape of a hovercraft. He had traveled in one numerous times, and they had changed very little over time. Another reminder that the cycle repeated, over and over…

He saw movement and pressed himself against the wall immediately. Something… _someone_ moved near the ship, not very silently, which meant they knew they were far enough away from Machine territory to feel free to make such a ruckus. "Goddammit," a male voice swore, then there was a slight beep. "We lost the pads on one side. All of them. I told them we wouldn't be able to make that turn!"

_"There's no point arguing about it now. Can we fix enough of them to limp back home?"_ a female voice asked through something that might be a radio, the voice echoing off the walls.

"Did you hear me when I said we 'lost' the pads?" the man outside snarled into the communicator device. "Where's the technician?"

_"Dead,"_ the woman replied.

"Seriously?" The man paused. "Any other casualties?"

_"I haven't done a full round, but it would seem… it's pretty ugly in here. I'm sure you see the dent in the hull? Caused an explosion in the rear."_

"Who's left?"

_"You and me… and Bruce. That's about it. Bruce dragged Jasper out of the wreckage that's now the engine room, but he bled out a few minutes ago."_

"Fuck," the man outside the ship swore and Steve saw him lean against the hull – then whirl angrily and kick at the nearest object, which was probably a piece from the ship. "Fucking hell!"

Steve pulled away from the wall and slowly approached. When the other man didn't notice him, stating into the darkness, Steve made a point of shoving a piece of metal with his foot. The other man whirled around and raised something – a gun – towards him, as well as a flashlight.

"Who's there?"

"Hi," Steve said slowly. "I'm not a threat. I… heard you crash."

The weapon didn't move, but the light did, pointing at his face. Steve stopped and waited. He didn't want to get shot, on top of everything. From the side he heard something – shuffling steps – and then another person appeared in the flickering lights from the working pads of the hovercraft. It was a man with a blood-stained face and curly brown hair. He looked at Steve and then seemed to realize Steve shouldn't be there and jumped a little. "Who's he?"

"No idea," the man with the gun growled. "Who are you?"

"My name is Steve," Steve said. Surnames had stopped existing a long time ago. "I heard you crash," he repeated. "I came to see if I could help."

"Heard us crash?" the second man asked, stepping towards him. Steve could make out a frown on his face. He guessed this was Bruce. "Is there another ship?"

"No, just me," Steve told them. "Would you put that down?" he asked the man with the gun. "Unless you would rather not, since I'm the intruder here."

"If there's no other ship then where the hell did you come from?" the first man asked him, shifting the gun to better point at Steve's chest.

"The surface," Steve shrugged.

"There's nothing on the surface," Bruce argued.

"There's not much here, either," Steve pointed out and looked at them both – then registered the sound of someone else exiting the damaged hovercraft; the woman he had heard on the communicator, no doubt.

"Who's he?" she asked.

"No idea," the man with the gun replied.

"I'm Steve," Steve offered again.

"Where did he come from?" the woman repeated the big question.

"Surface, he says," Bruce mused, still frowning.

"Are you from Zion?" Steve asked in return, wanting to bring something familiar into the discussion – something familiar to these people. Not that he expected them to be from anywhere else, and he briefly wondered at which point during the history-repeating-itself cycle they were living in.

"Yeah," the man with the gun admitted, lowering the weapon slightly, but not enough to not be able to shoot Steve if he felt the need. "Where else?"

"Good point," Steve agreed.

"Are you _not_ from Zion?" Bruce asked. Clearly, he wasn't stupid, and the way he kept studying Steve's face felt like he was being dissected and reassembled.

"Sort of," Steve answered. "It's… complicated. I can lead you to the nearest access-point to more frequently used tunnels if your communications are down."

"What's in it for you?" the man holding the gun asked and lifted the weapon slightly once more.

"Well, if you have any extra provisions, those would be welcome. Like you said, there's nothing on the surface. Any food you have, I'm happy to take, but if not, I'll still lead you to a place where you can hopefully contact your people."

"Our people?" the woman repeated. "I'm not sure I trust you. Easier to have Clint here put a bullet in you and go off on our own. We know which way to go."

"I know shortcuts," Steve offered.

"I vote for the bullet," the man, Clint, stated.

"You know of Zion, but I haven't seen you there," Bruce mused. "Not that I know everyone there, but… Why would you rather stay out here? There's… nothing out here," he motioned at the dark tunnel.

"Like I said, it's complicated."

"Then un-complicate it," Clint suggested.

"Or you'll shoot me?" Steve confirmed. He didn't sound as scared as he should, and the woman immediately picked up on that fact.

"He's holding a gun at you and you're not afraid. Why? Do you have friends waiting, ready to pillage the ship?"

"I'm alone," Steve stated as genuinely as he could, and allowed himself a sad little laugh. "I've been alone for so long it's probably not healthy for a human being, because isolation is… not a condition we handle very well."

"But it's better than living in Zion?" Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"For a time."

"And when the time's up?"

"I usually migrate back to Zion and make myself useful there."

Clint still didn't buy it, or the woman, but Bruce held up a hand at them. "Okay, Steve," he said. "If we can't get the ship fixed, or the communications, we'll take you up on your offer to show us to the nearest tunnel that the other ships may be using. Maybe we can even cook up a transmission device and send for help. You're welcome to the resources we have after we've taken what we need for our journey back."

"Why are you offering him anything?" Clint asked. "We don't know him."

"He's a human being. Besides, I get a good vibe from him," Bruce shrugged and turned. In the weak light, Steve could see the familiar black dots on his skin, the most prominent ones half-hidden by his hair at the base of his skull.

Clint lowered his gun and scowled at him, then shrugged. "Whatever. If you try to murder us in our sleep, I'll have Natasha here give you the most memorable goodbye of your life – or what's left of it, at that point."

Steve nodded. "Fair enough."

They all returned to the ship, and Steve looked around. Memories flooded his mind, but he locked them away, taking a good look at his new friends instead. All of them carried the familiar marks of the pods on them. "You're all Redpills," he noted as they moved around, gathering items and checking on the ship's systems. A burnt smell hung in the air, and there might have been fires burning still, further inside the vessel.

"What do you know about that?" Clint asked as he tugged a panel off the wall and peered inside at the wires and flashing lights.

"I know what the Matrix is, although I've never been there, obviously," Steve noted. He looked up as Bruce came by, dragging along a dead body; one of their crewmembers, no doubt. He moved to give him a hand.

"You make it sound like you'd like to visit the Matrix," Bruce noted as they set the body down in a separate room. "You're also not squeamish about a dead body," he added, as if that was more important.

"I've… fought in a war. I've seen plenty of bodies," Steve admitted. "Eventually, you just stop paying attention to how they make you feel." He looked at the other man. "Yes, I'm curious about the Matrix. After all this time… I mean, it's like this place everyone else has been to, but not you, and you never get the inside jokes."

Bruce gave him a half-hearted smile. "You make it sound like a vacation."

"I've met people who wanted to go back," Steve noted as they moved back to the hallway and approached the mess. There were items all over the floor, just like elsewhere on the ship, from the crash landing. Bruce reached up to a cabinet and discovered a mug on a shelf, then placed it under a dispenser and squirted some rather disgusting looking pale substance in it. He found a spoon on the floor and offered both to Steve, who took them without hesitation. He recalled what the food on board the hovercrafts had been like when he was last living in Zion, and he was too hungry to care about its appalling appearance.

"It would seem you've done a lot of things," Bruce mused.

Steve gave him a nod and continued to shovel in the food. With no next meal in sight, his starving body embraced every drop; half the time he was amazed he hadn't simply fallen into a coma in between intakes of sustenance, but the super-soldier serum kept him going even though it didn't remove the bottomless pit of hunger.

"Would you like to come back to Zion with us?" the other man asked at length, after Steve had polished off the mug. Bruce reached out his hand and Steve handed the mug over with some regret – only to have it returned to him full of the same gelatinous substance.

He gave Bruce a smile and dug in. "Maybe," he said between spoonfuls. "It's been a while since I saw another person. Guess I'm a little starved for both food and company."

"You know it's really suspicious that you're out here on your own," Bruce pointed out.

"You don't know why I'm here," Steve noted, then met the serious eyes and guessed he might as well ask: "Have they discovered the One yet?"

Bruce blinked, and for a moment Steve guessed they hadn't. He had lost count of the days and years, and the last time he had visited Zion, there had only been prophesies of the coming of the One.

"You mean Neo?" Bruce replied suddenly, startling Steve out of his musings. "That was… a long time ago. You know there's a truce, right? Between humans and Machines?"

Steve would have dropped the mug, but his body craved the food so much he didn't think he could let go of the half-full dish even if he wanted to. "A truce?"

Bruce nodded. "Neo went to Machine City, when the Machines attacked Zion. He brokered for a truce. There's been peace ever since."

"You mean Zion wasn't destroyed?"

Bruce's frown returned. "Well, I know a lot of people thought that would happen, but… no. I'm not saying there's absolute peace, but we don't bother them, and they don't bother us, and whoever wants to leave the Matrix is allowed to do so."

Steve's head reeled. The circle had been broken. This… Neo… had done what the others could not: instead of leading Zion to destruction despite the promises and prophesies, he had managed to save Zion.

"Yes," Steve finally managed. "I would like to come to Zion with you." Perhaps after all this time, he could find a little peace of his own.

Steve finished his dinner, and Bruce filled his mug for a third time, then led them out of the mess. Clint and Natasha had taken apart half the cockpit, it seemed. The pads were all turned off, leaving the tunnel in full darkness, while inside the lights were on low.

"I think we managed to construct a beacon to send a message back to Zion," Clint announced. "We'll give it time to work, and then hike back if it doesn't."

"Sounds like a plan," Bruce admitted.

Natasha looked at the two of them and stared at Steve eating his third portion. "I've never seen anyone enjoy that sludge as much as you are."

"Try going without food for a few months," Steve countered; he was in too good of a mood to censor himself.

All three gave him weird looks, then unanimously seemed to decide he was joking. Bruce tugged on Steve's sleeve. "Unless you can help them, let's go pack up my lab."

"Your lab?"

"Yeah," Bruce rubbed the back of his neck. "I was a scientist in the Matrix and I guess that carried over." They entered a room situated behind and to the left of the cockpit, which looked just as messy as everywhere else, but at least there were no bodies or signs of explosions. There were, however, gadgets and tools that took Steve's mind back to Tony Stark's lab for a moment, and he just stared. "It's the best collection of tools I've been able to collect, and I won't be leaving all of it behind if we have to go on foot," Bruce said resolutely. He sat at a computer terminal and switched on the screen, then started tapping commands.

"What's your field?" Steve asked, proud of himself that he selected such an appropriate word after all these years.

"In the Matrix, radiation. Here… well, I've done this and that. I especially like to study the connection between the human body and the Matrix – you know, after you've been redpilled," he replied. "You can't just hook up your body to a machine and think that your mind is the only thing that is affected. Just like if you die out there, you die here, and… you probably don't want to hear about that," he added, looking at Steve. "I know most natural-born aren't into it, although they work with Redpills all the time. They like knowing how to make things click, but that's it."

Steve slid a hand over one of the tables. "Theoretically speaking, could you install a headjack into a person who doesn't have one?"

"Theoretically… Well, the Machines did that, so, yes," Bruce replied.

"So, then… you could maybe give me one?" Steve went on.

Bruce turned his chair around to look at him and Steve met his eyes. "Was that really a rhetorical question?"

"I've always wanted to see it. The Matrix." Steve wished to live in a world he had been forced to leave behind, instead of the barren wasteland and the dark skies.

"It's not worth it," Bruce noted.

"We could have a debate over that. You've been there. You've… had that life."

"And I'm glad I'm away from that life. It's a lie, Steve."

"I like to think of it as a memory," he shrugged. "It's…"

"Complicated?" Bruce frowned. "Is that why you're staying away from Zion? Said the wrong things to the wrong people?"

"No," Steve shook his head. "You're the first person I've ever posed that question to – because you're the only person who's clearly spent time studying the subject." He nodded at all the drawings and schematics on the walls, detailing the headjack and its connection to the human brain.

"The Matrix… Even if it were possible, physically, no one could survive the procedure. I'm pretty sure even the Machines have to build them into the fetuses…"

"They experimented, in the beginning," Steve corrected him. "On humans of all ages, from babies to adults; tweaked and tried to find the perfect balance as they mapped the humans' response to stimuli. That was before the pods, and the fields."

"You know you sound insane, right?"

"But you sound like you want to believe me." Steve met his eyes. "I met you, for the first time, less than an hour ago. You're already having an internal debate over whether you'll be able to convince me to lie down on a table and go through with it."

"No," Bruce shook his head and jerked back against the table behind him, but he didn't spring up from his chair and escape the room.

"Yes," Steve insisted. "And I will, if you know what you're doing." He looked at the drawings on the walls again. "I want to see it. I want to live the lie, even for a moment, to survive another couple centuries here. I… want to pretend the life I remember is still there, for a few seconds."

"The life you remember…"

"I was born on the fourth of July, 1918, in Brooklyn, New York. I fought in World War II – which I'm not sure the Matrix told you about – and then spent almost seventy years asleep in the ice before I was rediscovered. I saw the creation of the Artificial Intelligence that later took over the world and made humanity into its own personal fuel cell. I've seen… I've been to Zion, lived in Zion, for longer than you've been alive."

The other man stared at him in absolute silence. Steve didn't interrupt whatever thought process was taking place in Bruce's brain. "You know that's… impossible, right?" the scientist finally spoke up, sounding a little choked.

"I've never met a person who knows what year it actually is," Steve countered. "Not that I know, either. The days sort of blur into months, and months into years, when you have no calendar to hold onto, or a sun to look at." He glanced towards the ceiling. "I miss the sun. I wonder if the one in the Matrix is similar to the real thing. The people who have described it never understood what I was really looking for when I asked them about the Matrix."

Bruce blinked and leaned forward in his chair, elbows propped on his knees and fingers curling together under his chin. "I've seen some messed up people who didn't exit properly. Brain damage. False memories. Sometimes the Matrix glitched, and… None of them sound like you. I mean, they believe it, but you… are different."

"I would ask if you believe in superheroes, but I already know the Matrix was pretty strict about that part of the history."

"Superheroes?"

"Yeah. People with… special abilities."

"Like the One?"

"A bit. Just, different, depending on the person. Not that there were many of us," he noted.

"Us?" Bruce repeated. "You think you're a superhero?"

"Do I look like someone who hasn't been eating properly for decades?" Steve pointed at his body. Sure, he wasn't in peak condition, but none of the people on this ship were a match to his physique.

"I'm starting to think you're a talented liar," Bruce countered and leaned back in his chair, giving him a speculative look.

"Or a madman," Steve offered. "After all, I have blind faith that my story is a true one. Those are the ones you should be really worried about."

"But they don't usually realize their condition, since their version of the truth is the one they live in," Bruce met his challenge.

"Thus, I must be the real deal," Steve noted dryly. "Not that I think you'll believe me, but…"

"It doesn't matter whether I believe you or not," Bruce countered. "How about this: if we get back to Zion and you come with us – instead of slaughtering us all before the rescue gets here – we'll see about that very controversial operation to give you a data port. Which will probably kill you, but since you're already insane, I'm not sure if letting you live this horrible fantasy is more merciful than ending it."

"Deal," Steve smiled tightly, and they shook on it. And Bruce was right: Steve had seen enough. If the experiment failed, he could finally enjoy the dreamless sleep of death. If it was a success… he would get to glimpse the world the Machine had built, and if it resembled anything like his past, Steve would be happy to stay there for a while.

_to be continued…_


	2. The Avenger

**Chapter 2: The Avenger**

* * *

"Cap?"

Steve kept his eyes closed. He could almost envision it… how it had once been. From below, he could hear the sounds of New York City buzzing with life; car horns, traffic, people. His fingers tightened against the edge of his shield, the vibranium firm beneath his grip, and his uniform hugged his body like a comforting cocoon. It wasn't the one he had worn before, but it carried some of the old colors – red, white and blue – and some less obvious symbols.

"Yo, Cap!"

Steve gave up the illusion and opened his eyes. The city skyline was much the same, yet different. A lot like when he had awoken from the ice instead of the world he remembered just before the Machine War started.

The Matrix was so much like what he had hoped it would be, bringing to life memories that were buried deep in his mind. Of course he knew it was only an illusion; a myriad of programs and hallucinations. For whatever reason, it reminded him of Tony's workshops, especially the ones post-Extremis.

He turned and looked at Clint standing at ease behind him. His clothing was dark, hugging his form, leaving his arms bare. He had a quiver strapped to his back and a bow in his hand – not a wooden bow, a highly mechanized one. Steve had never seen anyone use a bow the way Clint did, and the specially programmed trick arrows accomplished more than simple weapons could dream of. Anyone who had ever dared to laugh at Clint's choice of a weapon had come to regret it in short order.

The archer's sharp eyes regarded Steve, waiting for his response. In the time they had known each other, since that day their ship crashed in the tunnels in the real world, Steve had learned that Clint's senses were almost as sharp as his own in the Matrix, and he saw things no one else could.

However, it seemed Clint never assumed to see everything that Steve did.

"Time to go?" Steve asked, adjusting his grip on the shield. It was still painted in the old, bright colors, with the star in the middle. He had no idea how that was possible because the shield hadn't been 'coded' to him or his gear, not once, but it was always there, waiting for him, when he entered the Matrix. None of the others had been able to explain it – or how it was every bit as strong as the real vibranium had been.

"Soon," Clint confirmed with a sharp, minimal nod, then looked out past him – at the spot Steve tended to stare at more than most.

The spot where Stark Tower used to reside, but didn't exist in the Matrix.

Steve heard a sound from the other side of the roof they were standing on, and Natasha came into view, her red hair longer here, reaching half-way down her back. Sometimes it was curly, but today it was straight and flaming under the sun's rays. She wore a catsuit, the black clinging to her body, belts at her waist and weapons strapped to every part of her body. Here, she was covert and lethal, her light body filled with agility that sometimes surpassed Steve's own.

Natasha gave Steve one, brief look, nodded in greeting and then settled to stand beside Clint. They looked good together, Steve noted – not for the first time – and he knew that it was an ongoing joke that their Operator gave them the best toys and tricks. Considering that the two of them were in a relationship with said Operator, Steve didn't doubt the truth behind the joke.

Behind Clint and Natasha, two more people joined them, moving with less agility and stealth than the rest of them. Bruce looked around, squinting in the sunlight; he and Jane had been working indoors for most of their trip, establishing some kind of transmitter that would speed up their connection to the Matrix.

The two of them formed the 'scientific team' of Steve's crew. Most of the time he couldn't understand a thing they were saying, but he liked to listen anyway; it reminded him of the life that he used to have, and some brilliant people he'd had the privilege to work with.

Jane shook her head, brown hair swaying softly at the motion, and looked at Steve with a half-smile while murmuring to Bruce, "How does he pull that off, seriously? That outfit would look ridiculous on anyone else."

"You should have seen the one I used to wear," Steve cracked. "This one is a more toned down version than what I… wore in the beginning." The USO shows… Sometimes, if Steve forgot to pinch himself, it felt like that life was a dream; most things about his past had lost the grittiness and sharpness that separated actual memories from dreams and trips to the Matrix. "Let's head back to an exit point," Steve decided.

Clint was the first to move back towards the stairs, Natasha right behind him. Jane followed them while Bruce remained standing, hands in his pockets, looking out over the city.

"Is something wrong?" Steve asked.

Bruce's brown eyes glanced at him, up and down, lingering on the shield before aiming at his face again. "You know those religious texts some cults worship? The way they… describe the moment you are faced with something greater than yourself – something supernatural, almost."

"Yeah," Steve replied. He had never believed in any of it, but that didn't mean he was ignorant of them.

"I had a bit of that, the day we met. I couldn't dissect it then, and I'm not sure I want to do it now, either. Mostly I thought you were the craziest son of a bitch I'd ever met, to let me strap you down, drill a hole into your skull and try to implant a data port into your brain. When you sat up a few days later and stretched like after a particularly long sleep, I wasn't sure which of us was the crazy person. And then I saw you enter the Matrix for the first time," he added.

"I thought that went pretty well," Steve frowned, remembering. He had gone through some orientation Constructs, but he had still felt the difference between those and the real deal.

"Oh, it went better than the first trip of anyone I've seen," Bruce snorted. "And then that shield was there, and the uniform, and I felt like I was looking at something I'm not devout enough to understand. That feeling hasn't passed, and it makes me a little bit uneasy."

Steve moved to lay a hand on the other man's shoulder, squeezing. "Just don't go building an altar outside my quarters; that might be a bit uncomfortable for everyone else."

"Sure thing, Captain," Bruce smiled wryly.

Steve left it at that, because what else was there? He knew he was the only person alive who had been implanted with the means to enter the Matrix; he hadn't been birthed by the Machines. Well, he was also the only person alive who had seen the time before the Machines, but that was a less commonly known fact. People tended to get uneasy and give him that 'you're insane' look if he let it slip.

"Have I told you of Frankenstein's monster?" Steve mused as he and Bruce followed the others down into the building and back to a room that had a land line.

"They have that in the Matrix," Bruce told him. It seemed the Machines had kept a lot of things the same, censoring only here and there to accomplish some intricate goal. "Are you referring to me as Frankenstein, and you the monster?"

"I guess I just like to think that we did a lot better than Frankenstein," Steve observed. He knew the procedure could have gone wrong in dozens of ways. Almost all of them would have left him dead, brain-dead or possibly given Steve a personality disorder so severe he might have not known himself anymore. But even with all odds against them, Bruce had given Steve the means to see what lay on the 'other side', and he was glad they had both taken the risk.

As they reached their Exit location, the others were already gathered around a table with a black rotary dial telephone sitting on top of it. It always amused Steve how the Redpills needed to depend on old-fashioned technology to get their consciousnesses back home. So much for the future and wireless information.

Knowing that they had been here long enough, Steve raised a hand to his left ear, with an earpiece firmly in place. "Operator, call us in."

_"Roger that, Captain Rogers,"_ their Operator's cheerful voice replied. Steve did not roll his eyes like he used to in the beginning: Darcy insisted on making that joke almost every time, if things had gone according to plan. When there was trouble, though, the young woman pulled herself together and that was why Steve had chosen her as his Operator. Well, she had also chosen him, seeing as not many people lined up to hang around Steve.

That only meant his crew was all the more special for the fact that they stuck around.

The phone began to ring. Jane picked it up first, as was their mutual agreement. She vanished a moment later, and Steve caught the handset as it began to fall down, carefully placing it back on top of the phone. It began ringing again just seconds later, and Bruce was the next to pick it up, vanishing as well. At the third round, Clint and Natasha exchanged looks.

"Ladies first," Clint insisted.

Natasha gave the room a wary look, as if expecting danger the moment she picked up the handset. "I'll see you on the other side," she said then and leaned in to give Clint a quick kiss before picking up the phone and disappearing.

Clint caught the handset this time, set it down and squared his shoulders. He briefly looked at Steve, just as the phone began ringing again. Steve gave him a nod, and Clint repeated the familiar maneuver.

As Steve stood alone, he debated on not picking up the phone. However, such a childish desire to hide in this fake world was unnecessary when he could come visit it again, soon, and he had a duty to the people waiting on the other side. So, he lifted the handset to his ear, heard a strange, mechanical sound and opened his eyes to the bleak gray interior of the ship a moment later. A worn, faded paper taped to the ceiling greeted his eyes, with stick figures drawn onto a setting that could be described as an attempt to depict an island paradise.

"All aboard," Darcy grinned from her chair, brown hair just as unruly as always. "Welcome back, Cap."

Steve gave her half a smile as someone pulled the data probe from his head. The sensation was strangely cold and hot at the same time, but not really painful. He turned his head while getting used to his real body once more – not that different from the one in the Matrix, whereas the others seemed to go over a greater transformation.

To his left, Jane was already in the embrace of a large man with a blond mane of hair, her mouth moving a mile a minute as she described the success of their mission. It was clear the man did not understand most of it, but he worshipped all of Jane, including her brilliant mind. Thor was one of their natural-born crew members, and he was sworn to protect his fellow crewmembers when they were connected to the Matrix. The one thing you needed to know about Thor was that he took his promises seriously, and not just because the woman he was in love with happened to be a Redpill and went on regular visits to the neural-interactive virtual reality called the Matrix.

Steve sat up and got to his feet. He looked down at his arm, feeling the emptiness where the shield had been just moments ago. He wondered whether his shield would be waiting for him in the Matrix if he hadn't lost it in the real world, but that was a question for another time, and he did not wish to ruin a good thing by over-analyzing it.

"We got a transmission from Zion," another woman joined them. She was tall and dark-haired, and gave Bruce a quick, fond look before moving towards Steve with a piece of paper. "They asked us to head back, for those repairs we couldn't do last time, and to give a report on the progress we've made." Betty was their medic, something they had sorely needed before she joined the crew. Steve knew he had Bruce to thank for her being here, in some indirect way.

Steve nodded and gave her a smile of thanks. "Let's go home, then."

Clint and Thor moved towards the hovercrafts controls, and as the engines hummed into life, Steve laid a hand on the wall of _The Avenger_. Not the best ship in the world, but it allowed him the freedom to move around and feel useful once more.

"Are you feeling any nausea?" Betty asked from the side. "Light-headedness? Headaches?"

"No," Steve replied. There had been headaches at first, but they had dissipated – probably the super-soldier serum adapting to the new object in his brain. "I'm feeling fine."

She nodded briefly and disappeared. Bruce hung around for a moment before following her, perhaps to see if any of the equipment in their small med bay needed repairs – and to find an excuse to be around her.

Frankly, Steve wished his crew would stop acting as if they weren't allowed to form connections. Steve knew, from personal experience, what waiting for too long felt like. You could lose everything in a heartbeat, and waiting for a 'better time' was an endless road. The way he saw it these days, after much time to polish that little nugget of wisdom, was to embrace the moment and the people in that moment.

He looked over at the Operator console where Natasha was standing behind Darcy. She was leaning in close, looking at the endless floating symbols falling across the screens in front of them; the Matrix, in all of its digital code glory. If Steve wanted to give himself a headache, he would try to decipher those codes – and fail – but at the same time it was incredible that those simple symbols created the world he had just stepped out of.

He spied Natasha's hand resting on Darcy's neck, fingers curling, thumb moving up along her jaw-line in a small caress. It felt strange, knowing how cold Natasha could be when something needed to be done, no matter how brutal, dangerous or gory. She wasn't that different in real life, although she lacked the preternatural strength her avatar self had in the Matrix.

Deciding he could leave them to it for now, Steve headed down to the mess hall, got himself some of that rather disgusting goo that served as their only form of food, and sat down to enjoy it to the best of his ability. It was sustenance, and he shouldn't think twice about it. At least he had something to eat.

One by one, the crewmembers joined him, for food or just sitting around in silence that was occasionally interrupted by murmured voices. It wasn't like their usual dinners went, most of them loud and full of obnoxious statements, which meant they were gearing towards another pastime that united their little family.

"Tell us about it," Jane started, her face earnest. The others waited, gathered around, as if Steve were their campfire.

Steve looked at his hands, thoughts rolling through his head. "The blue skies? The real sunshine filtered through a window of glass? The soft, clean sheets?"

Darcy moaned obscenely, closing her eyes, picturing it. She had never been to the Matrix, having been born here in the real world, and she had no idea what he was talking about, yet her imagination was better than most people's he had met.

_"Tell us about the first AI,"_ Clint's voice joined them through the comm; he was piloting them towards Zion, but obviously he had been listening in.

"The predecessor of the Machines?" Steve quirked an eyebrow. "Or JARVIS, the first AI?"

"JARVIS," Bruce decided. "Tell us about Tony."

"Iron Man," Darcy grinned. "It sounds so… silly."

"It was silly until you met him," Steve said, looking at all of them, then got lost in the memories. He was thankful to his crew, sometimes, for making him talk about the past, because that way he would not forget.

He had nightmares about forgetting.

"I met him soon after they thawed me from the ice. I was angry and sad. Depressed. I had lost everything and the world I saw around me was futuristic and almost hostile. It was not how I had imagined it, either. It wasn't advanced enough."

A couple people chuckled around him, but didn't interrupt. As Steve looked around, he could see them leaning on each other or any available surface, relaxed, trying to picture what he was seeing. Jane had rolled herself up in Thor's wide chest, and Darcy was playing with Natasha's shoulder-length hair. Bruce and Betty were almost brushing against each other.

"Then I saw Iron Man, and it felt like that was the first thing that matched my ideas of what the future would be like: advanced technology, flashy moves, someone doing things no one else could match. He was also a superhero, in every sense of the word. When I met Tony, however – when the armor came off – we were constantly at each other's throats."

Clint's voice chuckled through the speakers.

"I couldn't stand this prideful, full-of-himself guy, who had no regard for anyone else's feelings, and who was all about style. But he was the most brilliant person I had ever met, which was even more intimidating, and it took us a long time to get past the hostilities between us. It helped, though, that we had to save the world, repeatedly.

"I met JARVIS… well, you can't really meet him. He's everywhere, and he's nowhere; in Tony's suit, in his homes, his workshops, even his cars and phones. At first I thought maybe it was another person, and I felt deceived when I realized it was just a program. When I told Tony that, he wouldn't speak to me for two weeks. Apparently I had insulted both his brilliance and JARVIS' feelings, although JARVIS did assure me that he had not taken offense.

"So, I revised my attitude, bit by bit. JARVIS was more human than most people I ever met because he had the capability to weigh every opinion he had. He could calculate outcomes and likelihoods, and if given the chance, he could have a discussion of morality with you that left you a bit breathless from the depths to which such a discussion could go."

Steve thought of those long, dark nights when their latest mission was still too fresh in his mind and he needed a distraction. Tony had his lab, his bots, his work, but Steve could only work out his already sore body in hopes of hitting the hay – until he was too worn out to move.

Instead, he had sat down on the floor and talked to JARVIS.

"When they created the AI, I imagined a world filled with others like JARVIS – but they were nothing like him. They were dumb, lacked emotional depth, and while they later constructed a concept of their own right to exist, it never felt the same. Maybe it would have taken a little more time – or a little more love."

"Tony loved his AI?" Darcy asked. "That sounds… kinky."

"Oh, I'm sure they had much love between them," Steve smiled. "Tony gave JARVIS the ability to grow, to advance, to learn. No matter how heated their banter got, I always knew JARVIS would remain loyal to his creator, and Tony, for his part, would never have a better friend." His lips twitched at that, his mind jumping ahead. "I kept hoping, when I heard that Tony had gone to Zero One, that the war could be averted. I had already lived through one war, and I had no desire to see another. I thought that Tony could show the AI that humanity had more to give them than violence and discrimination – but then the bombs dropped."

He looked at the tabletop, feeling his eyes mist a little. "I think it was better that he died that day. He didn't have to see the war, didn't have to feel torn to choose a side."

"Which side would he have chosen?" Betty asked.

Steve looked up at her. "It's not for me to judge, but I think, in the end, he felt he had more in common with the AI than the human race that had betrayed him, time and time again, to serve its own ends."

Betty pursed her lips. She didn't come up with objections anymore, and sat down with the rest of them, but in the beginning she had not believed anything Steve said. Maybe she thought his stories were as good as any others, or she wanted to be there because Bruce never missed these little gatherings.

"The Extremis," Bruce spoke up when no one else did. "It enabled Tony to communicate with the machines?"

"Yes," Steve nodded. "His connection to the suit was his main concern, but I know it went beyond that. When you can see through satellites…"

"So, you could say he became a machine at heart?" Betty ventured.

Bruce gave her a quick, warning look.

Steve, however, had had that discussion in his head a hundred times now, wondering what it would have been like should Tony have survived. "A heart is a complex thing. I think Tony just chose what was a natural extension of himself. What he was destined to become. After all…" He didn't finish – didn't point at himself – but he knew many people had once believed Steve Rogers had been destined to become Captain America.

A fat lot of good that had done the world, in the end…

"We should get some sleep," Natasha finally decided. "I'll join Clint at the controls. Thor, will you relieve us in about five hours?"

"I shall," Thor nodded and rose, pulling Jane along with him.

"Good night," Jane called out to them before they disappeared.

"I have a few calculations," Bruce started.

"You need to rest," Betty argued. "You can run the numbers later."

It was always a toss-up whether Bruce would do as he was told; he had a vicious temper when he got pissed, like an angry beast inside him was just waiting to be unleashed. Being told what to do, when he didn't want to do those things, was one way to bring out the uglier side of his personality. But perhaps the numbers weren't that important, or Betty's imploring eyes melted his defenses, because he nodded and got up, telling Steve good night and taking his leave, Betty waiting a few seconds before doing the same.

Natasha and Darcy got up next, heading in the direction of the cockpit, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts and memories. At times it felt unacceptable that his life had been whittled down to stories around a campfire, but all that time was behind him now and it didn't really matter whether it was real or not. Well, it mattered to him, and in a way he felt like it mattered to his crew as well.

_The Avenger_ continued to fly towards the last city of mankind, and Steve guessed he should try to get some shut-eye before they got there.

_to be continued…_


	3. The Cleansing

**Chapter 3: The Cleansing**

* * *

Loki watched the patterns change in the Matrix. One symbol did not differ that much from the other, but when you began to see the big picture…

Beside him, Talbot raised a hand to his ear. "Operator," he responded to a call coming from their team jacked into the Matrix. "The Exit it still good. Proceed and I'll call you back." His every word was terse, tension bleeding through. As he turned towards Loki, it was clear he was already annoyed by something. "Start prepping for their exit," he snapped, and Loki turned towards his keyboards and screens, establishing a connection with the Exit and waiting for their men to get to it and call in for extraction.

His eyes followed the code again, searching for abnormalities that would alert them in case of danger. It seemed everyone on board _Thanos_ was concerned about their activities, which had led Loki to question his presence on this ship more than once. There was the Truce, after all, and the idea of jeopardizing that…

But as their captain, Ross, kept saying, the Truce would last only as long as the Machines wanted it to, and not a second longer. When they attacked again, Zion would fold under the pressure, and all would be lost. It was their time to plan and strike – to deliver the death blow to the enemy before they knew what was happening.

Loki found comfort in that idea, that there was a plan forming that could destroy the Machines for good. He wasn't privy to all the details, but the men in his crew seemed so certain…

Why didn't they trust Loki with all of the information, then? Was he not pledged to see this through as well, as one of them? He'd had his doubts, in the beginning, because so many in Zion thought Ross' visions mad and called them 'warmongering'. Despite all that, Ross had convinced Loki, offering him a position on his ship – saying that Loki would be an asset to his team.

Whether it was the trust that had appealed to Loki, or their secret mission, he wasn't sure. He had become _Thanos_' secondary Operator, and a rather excellent one at that. Talbot knew that, too, and felt constantly threatened. That was why Loki never turned his back to the man if he could help it.

Their captain marched up to the bridge, giving the two jacked-in men a look before briefly staring at the Matrix's code. "Everything going according to plan?"

"There has been no trouble," Loki responded before Talbot could. "Are we expecting any?" he dared to ask. It was one thing that Zion didn't agree with their goals, even though their fulfillment would serve all mankind; but that they were wary each time when entering the Matrix, like before the Truce, meant they were up to something the Machines wouldn't approve of, and that was a very different kind of danger altogether.

"There's always trouble," Ross huffed, and he was no doubt going to give one of his dark and depressive monologues. "As long as the Machines rule the Matrix, we are hunted inside it. Just like we are hunted on the outside. In order to cleanse the world of the mechanical tyranny –"

Loki's eyes flew to the screens a second before the call came through and cut off their captain. Talbot responded and tapped a few commands to what Loki had already laid out for him, calling their men back home.

Ross didn't bother to finish his tirade, walking over to the chairs instead and pulling the data probes from both men's heads, setting them aside as the two regained their bearings.

Blonsky was the first up on his feet, like always. He wasn't a tall man, but once he got into his 'intimidation mode', you didn't want to be on his bad side. His manner of speaking might be soft, but Loki knew there was a monster lurking inside, capable of horrible things.

Sterns was a little slower to rise from the chair. It was as if he wanted to slip back into the virtual reality – and Loki didn't blame him, with that face. Sterns had been awakened from the Matrix due to a malfunction at the power plant. Miraculously, he had survived and crawled deep into the sewers, but some kind of acid had burned half his face and chest. In the Matrix, he was whole, and every trip back and forth seemed to bring a new layer of poorly repressed bitterness into his personality. Loki wasn't sure how that was possible, but he knew better than to talk to Sterns about anything for the next few hours, and more importantly, not be there the first time the man caught an accidental glimpse of himself on some surface.

There were a lot of monsters aboard _Thanos_…

"Well?" Ross demanded impatiently. "Report."

"All went according to plan, sir," Blonsky responded at once while Sterns slowly sat up in his chair. "The rendezvous was successful. We're one step closer to the Weapon."

Ross nodded excitedly, although he hid it pretty well. However, the gleam in his eyes could not be mistaken for anything else but eagerness to proceed.

"With all due respect, sir, can we trust this information? Knowing where it's coming from…" Sterns asked, voice low, glaring at his feet as if they had personally betrayed him somehow.

Where the information was coming from, Loki wasn't sure. Someone in the Matrix, that much was certain, and he was fairly positive it wasn't another jacked-in human, but a program of some sort; these men wouldn't have been so distrusting if it were a human handing them breadcrumbs to follow.

"The intel's been good so far," Blonsky argued impatiently; clearly he and Sterns had already had this discussion earlier.

"Doesn't mean it isn't a trap."

"That's why we're taking every precaution," Ross snapped, clearly intolerant of such doubts. "One thing is for sure, though: the Machines have been hiding their weakness, and the Weapon is our key to victory."

The Weapon.

Some days, Loki couldn't believe such a thing existed; that there was anything that could bring the Machines to their mechanical knees. He didn't know whether it was supposed to be an actual weapon, or a piece of code hidden so deep in the Matrix that none could find it. However, it was logical that every program had a vulnerability, and the Matrix was a myriad of programs.

Programs connected to the Source, and the Machines.

If a weakness was found and could be exploited…

More than once, he had heard Ross reference the Weapon as a 'God Switch', whatever that meant. He doubted there was an actual switch someone could turn, in the Matrix or the real world, to turn off the Machines or make them self-destruct, but someone, somewhere, was convinced it was possible – someone who had convinced Ross and his crew, and who slowly but surely kept taking them closer to the answer.

"What was the message?" Ross asked then.

"To wait," Blonsky replied.

Ross shifted angrily. "Wait?! We have waited long enough –"

Blonsky motioned with his head, just a little, to imply he was not done talking. "The Oracle is going to surface again. She's going to make a call, to meet with a certain man called Rogers, the captain of a ship called _The Avenger_. She will meet with him, and Rogers is going find the Weapon for us; according to our deep-throat, he's the only man who can do that."

"Rogers, huh?" Talbot mused. "I've heard of him. A weirdo. Lots of rumors about that one. Don't know how he got himself a ship – or a crew to go with it."

Loki remained silent, digesting the information. This Captain Rogers and his crew were going to get them the Weapon, and when that happened…

"So, we wait," Ross muttered. "Soon, the Machines will fall, and humans will rule the entire world. With an ultimate weapon, we will bring the mechanical reign to its end."

Blonsky smiled wanly and nodded.

Sterns still glared at his feet.

Talbot glanced towards the Matrix code, as if suspecting it might be eavesdropping on them, but there was also disdain in his eyes – towards what or whom, Loki wasn't sure most days.

However, if there was a chance the Weapon was real, all of them were willing to take that chance.

They would deliver human kind from their oppressed slavery under the Machines.

_to be continued…_


	4. The Oracle

**Chapter 4: The Oracle**

* * *

The captains and first officers of the ships, as well as other key members of Zion society, had gathered with the Council for a meeting. It was as good a time as any to complete repairs on _The Avenger_, and most of the ship's crew had remained in its vicinity. Only Betty had run off to get some extra supplies, and Bruce had joined her.

Thor was standing near the ramp leading up to the ship. He had already carried heavy equipment around, to help the more mechanically gifted people to do their job, and until he was given something else to do, he could just bask in the feeling of being home.

Of course, Thor's family had not always lived in Zion. They had subsisted in a small colony, barely surviving, until finally joining the large community in the last city of Man. In time he had come to think of Zion as his home, and its people as his people. Just like this crew was his family now.

Before _The Avenger_, he had briefly served on the largest of Zion's hovercrafts, the _Hammer_ – also known as _Mjolnir_, befittingly named after a Norse god of thunder, Thor. He had been proud to work on a ship named after the old texts his own parents had used to name their tribe's children, but somehow his path had led here, to _The Avenger_, and he was satisfied with his choice. After all, he had met Jane, the love of his life, and there was something about their captain that was not of this world. Considering the many stories the man had to tell, it was no wonder.

Clint walked by him then, a mechanical part in his hands, his eyes peering at it intently.

"How long do you think we shall stay in Zion?" Thor asked casually.

"Don't know," Clint replied, stopping, still looking at the gadget in his fingers. "Do you have business to attend to?"

Thor was quiet, looking at the people bustling around the Dock. If there was time, he might go see whether there was any news of his brother, whom he had not seen for quite some time. When the two of them had been growing up, they had been close, but the younger of the siblings had always held views different from Thor's, and when they had to choose their paths to follow into adulthood, they had drifted apart. It did not mean Thor had forgotten about his brother, and knowing he was aboard another vessel, Thor had an urge to find out if he was doing well. After all, all of their family was gone save for the two of them, and Thor occasionally wanted to bring the two of them together again, to not lose the one person he had left.

Clint had raised his eyes to look at him, as if in question, and Thor shook his head in refusal. "Nay, I was just wondering."

When he was alone again, after Clint had returned inside the ship, Thor wondered whether anyone else in their crew had someone they might want to reunite with. Most of them were lone wolves, as the saying went, which made their bond as a crew all the more astonishing. If not for Steve Rogers, they might never have been able to find a common path to follow.

Betty's father was captain of another hovercraft, Thor knew, but the few times that fact had been brought up, it had also sounded like their relationship was strained. Perhaps that was why they didn't work on the same vessel.

Bruce, Clint, Jane and Natasha had been released from the Matrix, so the family they thought they had was programmed and didn't exist. All of them had struggled – and often failed – to fit in after arriving in Zion, and most of them were happier on a ship than outside it.

Darcy was perhaps the most well-adjusted one of them all, but she too had lost her true family and gained another in the form of Clint and Natasha. Thor wasn't certain whether her family was actually dead, but she rarely talked about them and implied she had no real home to go to.

"Thor," a voice called out, and he looked to the side, seeing a thin man approaching. Thor was aware they had met before, perhaps even worked together in the same crew briefly, but he couldn't bring the man's name to the forefront of his mind right now. "How's it going, big guy?" the man asked, a bit nervously, stopping beside him, hands pushed deep into the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt.

"No reason to complain," Thor replied simply.

"Good, good," the man nodded along, then looked around. No one was paying attention to them, and he seemed to like that. "So, who's your captain now?" It was a question, clearly, but somehow Thor felt like the man was already aware of who his captain was – and was aiming at something else with this conversation.

"Steve Rogers," Thor replied nevertheless, because there was no reason to lie, and he was proud of being included in the crew of _The Avenger_. Many did not agree with him, considering Steve a lunatic of some kind, but whether he was crazy or not, he had more conviction than most men Thor had ever met in his life, and he had to respect that. Besides, he loved a good story, true or make-believe.

"Right, right," the small man nodded jerkily. "Look, I'm… Is it true that they call him, you know…. with that name?"

"What name?" Thor was aware that he was growing tense, not approving of the direction their little chat was taking, and the man immediately read the unhappiness in his demeanor.

"Captain America," the man offered, like a token of friendship. "It sounds a bit like a joke, of sorts, but… do they really call him that? I mean…"

"He was called by that name, a long time ago. Another life, he calls it," Thor stated.

"And there's no one else called by that name?"

"Have you ever heard anyone else being called by that name?" Thor challenged.

"No," the man sighed, then stood a bit straighter and seemed to lose some of his nervousness. "In that case, I have a message for your captain. Or, Captain America. From the Oracle. She wants to meet him. Captain America, that is. She was very… insistent about it."

"The Oracle?" Thor asked, eyebrows shooting up.

The man nodded. "The last time we were in the Matrix, one of her children caught up with us. Delivered us her message. Soon as possible, she said." He removed his right hand from his shirt pocket, and clutched in his fist was a piece of paper. Thor took it hesitantly as it was offered, then unfolded it and looked at the address scribbled down on it. An address in the Matrix, no doubt; he had learned enough of the virtual reality to know how it worked – how the old world had worked, according to their captain.

"I shall deliver your message," Thor promised.

"Thanks," the guy nodded, then took another nervous look around and walked off, hunched and moving as fast as he could without breaking into a run. Thor wasn't sure how to take that, but then looked down at the paper again and guessed their captain would understand once he met the Oracle.

* * *

Steve and Natasha walked back towards their ship. For anyone who cared to look, their steps were in perfectly synch, but whenever Steve glanced at her, Natasha was a half a step behind him – either out of respect, or using him as sort of a shield against any threat that might approach. Here, in the real world, the threat was unlikely, but in the Matrix Steve had learned to accept her subtle signs.

It was not that Natasha was afraid, but she would rather have someone else take the brunt of the attack and thusly raise the chances of her own survival. That kind of behavior might be considered cold and selfish, but it was also a trait all survivors had, at some point. Luckily for her, Steve had never had a problem with being the man to jump on the live grenade.

Besides, she was not a deserter: in a tight spot, Natasha would leave the group just long enough to find herself, and possibly Clint, a vantage point, and then circle back to stab the enemy in the back. Not that they encountered a lot of problems in the Matrix, but they practiced in Constructs often enough – loading programs that ran simulations much like the Matrix, providing a safe setting to learn new things, hone their skills and work as a team.

"What do you think that was really about?" Natasha asked once they were well and truly alone in the hallway. She was referring to the meeting they had been sitting in for hours, which mostly circled concerns about a small group calling themselves Cleansers – who were, possibly, trying to end the Truce between humans and Machines.

"I'm thinking there's a lot of conflict," Steve replied. "Many people think the Truce is the only thing to ensure our survival; breaking it would put us right back into the war with the Machines."

"That's the common theory people like to hold onto," Natasha agreed.

"But inside, they all wish the Machines could be destroyed. Then there would be no need for the Truce, and we would be free to… live as we like." He wasn't sure what that entailed. He had been to the surface. There was nothing there, not anymore. Not with the sun gone, the skies dark and poisonous. Even if the Machines fell overnight, there was little to no life outside Zion. A few, small tribes here and there, like the one Thor came from, but even they eventually joined Zion or died out.

"If there really is a way…" Natasha mused. She wasn't a dreamer, but a realist. Steve knew she wouldn't jump on the bandwagon that was willing to take it on faith that there was a way to defeat the Machines.

Or maybe it was more than faith.

"We have to find them. The Cleansers," Steve decided.

"That's what every other captain swore to do," Natasha reminded him.

"Yes, but I don't know how many of them won't end up helping the Cleansers instead of bringing them in. If the movement really starts raising its head, that alone could provoke the Machines into action."

"Unless they really have a way to destroy the Machines."

"In which case we'll find out," Steve decided.

They arrived at the Docks, making their way to _The Avenger_. It seemed none of the other captains had arrived yet, nor would all of them be heading out at once. Steve still needed to make sure the repairs to his hovercraft were complete, but after that, he would have to devise a way to find the Cleansers.

As many whispers as there were, no one was willing to name names. Steve had a feeling many in the Council itself knew who was leading the movement, but with the small hope that there was a way to destroy the Machines for good, they kept quiet. Those who did not believe in it and wanted to keep the Truce alive were the ones making noise, instead of allowing for things to play out.

Steve had seen Zion destroyed too many times to let it happen again because of the stupidity of a few people. He had also seen the capacity humankind had for bringing about its own destruction, and remembered how good ideas had led to this life, deep beneath the earth, persecuted and enslaved, their old way of life perhaps forever gone.

"Cap," Clint, who was inspecting the outside of the hull, nodded as they approached. Thor soon walked down the ramp to join them.

"How go the repairs?" Steve asked.

"Well. We're working as fast as we can," Clint replied. "Did we get orders?"

"Sort of. I'll tell you when the entire crew gets here."

"Betty went to get some extra gear for the med bay and Bruce joined her. Everyone else's here. I'll prioritize the remaining repairs so that we're ready to take off when they get here, and do the rest while in the air," Clint summarized.

Steve nodded his approval, then glanced at Thor. "You seem anxious."

"There was a message left for you," Thor announced.

"A message? From whom?"

"The Oracle," the tall blond announced, offering a piece of paper.

Steve took it, stared at it, and wondered if the name meant something else than he thought it did.

"I thought no one had seen the Oracle in years," Natasha noted, which confirmed Steve's belief that they were talking about the Oracle in the Matrix.

"That is what I was told, and I believe it to be true; the messenger was quite uneasy," Thor explained.

Steve unfolded the paper, finding an address written down on it. He turned the paper over, to see if there was anything else, then returned to the address as he found the rest of the note blank. Clint and Natasha both peered over at it.

"Does it mean something?" Clint asked.

"Yes, it does," Steve nodded. "The moment Betty and Bruce arrive, we're taking off to find the safest possible location to broadcast. We're going to Brooklyn."

* * *

"Bruce!"

Bruce looked up and watched as Selvig rushed down the hallway, hastily apologizing to people he accidentally pushed up against in the narrow space.

"Selvig," Bruce inclined his head at the older man and waited for the other to catch up, then resumed walking towards the lifts.

"You're heading back out already?" Selvig asked, looking at the gear he was carrying.

"I assume so," Bruce agreed. "There's a lot of work to do, experiments to conduct, and we never stay in Zion for long."

Selvig made a noncommittal sound and fell silent afterwards, but he still kept up with Bruce and then stopped at the lift door while Bruce waited for the ride. "Bruce, I'm not… saying this out of malice, but I'm a little concerned," Selvig finally stated, tone low although for the time being they were alone.

"Concerned about what?" Bruce asked, frowning.

"We've known each other since you were freed from the Matrix…"

"We have."

"And you know I respect you, as a friend and a scientist."

"I think so," Bruce smiled briefly, then looked at Selvig properly. "What is it? Clearly you have something on your mind."

"Rogers," Selvig finally spat it out. "You know he's mad, right?"

Ah. So that's what this was about. "Maybe," Bruce responded and looked at the floor indicator above the door that still remained shut in front of them.

"I'm not saying he's a liar, but the fact that he believes, without reservation, that he's from the past… It's dangerous. That man shouldn't be captain of a ship," Selvig spilled his concerns.

"Look," Bruce looked at the other man, trying to be patient. This wasn't the first time he had talked about this with someone, but mostly it was with people he didn't respect half as much as he respected Selvig. "You can believe he's a pretender, or delusional, but the thing is… He's a believer, and he makes believers out of the rest of us. He inspires something in others – something I had never encountered before the day I met him in the sewers. I don't have to hang onto his every word, but I choose to believe in his version of things, because honestly? It might be just as correct as anything else we've ever been told."

The lift arrived, and he wrenched the door open, pulling his gear inside. Selvig followed him in and closed the door, allowing Bruce to punch the controls to take them to the same level as the Dock.

"Fine, so you've become a believer," Selvig said, exasperation clear in his voice. "What about Betty?"

Bruce frowned and knew he wouldn't like whatever came next.

"She's on that ship solely because of you. She doesn't believe in Rogers and his tales. She doesn't share your conviction – but she's going to crash and burn with you either way, because she's too damn stubborn to let you go on alone."

Letting out an angry exhale, Bruce tried to rein in his darkening mood. "She doesn't have to do anything she doesn't want to."

"Of course not, but she loves you, Bruce," Selvig insisted. "If you love her –"

"That's a dirty trick," Bruce snapped, pointing a finger at the older man, his voice a few notches lower. "Stop it."

"I'm trying to look out for you two."

"Of all the people out there," Bruce motioned angrily around the lift – and Zion at large, "I don't think Steve Rogers is the one you have to be afraid of. You've heard the rumors, right?"

"The cleansing," Selvig snorted. "Yeah, I have, and I think it has just as much credit as your ancient captain, or even less."

"Yes, but ideas like that take hold and start to grow," Bruce said. "They slowly brainwash people into believing that there might be an out, bringing in their ideology bit by bit – and before we know it, Zion lies in ruins yet again, because the Machine won't tolerate an open rebellion."

"Especially if they have something to be afraid of," Selvig noted.

Bruce sighed as the lift came to a halt. "I prefer believing in a man out of his time, rather than some weapon that can wipe out the Machines. My belief is relatively harmless, anyway."

"Not if it makes you forget what's real," Selvig called after him as Bruce set down the hallway towards the Dock.

"The day you see him in the Matrix is the day you'll believe," Bruce called over his shoulder and then continued on, refusing to let his friend's words sway his resolve. He had seen the things Steve could do, the sincere confidence in his eyes when he spoke of the old days.

Even if Steve was a fraud, what was the harm in believing every word he said?

* * *

"The Oracle," Darcy said from her chair. "You're so lucky, Cap. Not a lot of people have seen her after the Truce was formed, and even fewer have gotten a personal invite!"

"It wasn't Steve Rogers who was invited, but Captain America," Steve mused, glancing down at the piece of paper once more. It was laid out in the middle of the table for all to see, yet the three scribbled lines of text hadn't morphed into anything else, and every member of his crew had taken a turn staring at the address.

"Maybe it's a code," Clint offered.

"Maybe she's a believer," Darcy threw back at him with a wide grin. "Wouldn't that be awesome?"

"A believer?" Betty's voice rose in a challenge. "What would she 'believe' in?"

"Everything," Natasha murmured, and as unsatisfying as that reply was, it seemed to satisfy most people gathered in the cockpit.

"Do you think she'll mind if we tag along?" Jane wondered. She was working on the chair Steve always used, making some adjustments.

"I'm sure she'll let us know if you're not invited into the meeting," Steve guessed.

"We're approaching broadcast depth," Thor announced.

"Let's find us a safe spot to land," Clint echoed and moved to the controls, to assist the bigger man in landing _The Avenger_.

Darcy turned towards her controls, to prepare for a transmission.

Jane finished her work just as the hovercraft settled down in a sheltered tunnel and everyone who was going into the Matrix started moving towards the chairs, taking their places, settling down. Nervousness was in the air, palpable, but Steve knew it would ease once they were on their way.

"All set," Darcy called out, and Clint joined them at the chairs. "Good luck, guys."

Steve felt a brief stab of discomfort at the back of his skull, then closed his eyes. It felt like sinking into sleep, only, when he jerked and woke up, he was no longer in the chair but standing in the morning sunshine that was streaking down into a small alley. One by one his team appeared around him, dressed up and armed, just in case.

With his fingers curling around the straps of his shield, which faithfully sat on his arm the moment he became aware again, Steve led his team onto the street and looked around. They were close to the address they had been given, and they proceeded down the street. Some of the people they came across looked twice at Steve's shield, while others dismissed it completely. Maybe even they thought him a crazy person, walking around with what looked like a painted trashcan lid.

"You seem to know where we're going," Clint observed.

"I used to live around here," Steve confessed, "before the war and after they fished me out of the ice. It's… a lot like I remember it being." They continued on in silence, because all everyone wanted to talk about was the upcoming meeting with the Oracle, and Steve didn't want to speculate. He was nervous, knowing what kind of status the Oracle held among the people of Zion, especially Redpills. He had no idea what she wanted with him, specifically, but they would soon find out.

They arrived at a shabby-looking apartment building. Steve double-checked the number, then strode towards the door. There was no reason to start hesitating now, and besides, if this was a trap of some kind, he was more than eager to find out who had put it together.

The main door was unlocked and they stepped into a lobby. Paint was peeling from the walls, the carpet hadn't seen a good scrubbing in years, and there was only one person in sight: an Asian man dressed in a long, white jacket, black shirt and pants, with sunglasses on his face even in the gloom of the indoors. He seemed to be expecting them and inclined his head, looking them over.

"Who are you?" Natasha asked, ever suspicious. Clint's hand was moving to his bow, and Bruce and Jane had moved further away, closer to the door, should there be trouble.

"I am Seraph," the man greeted them, words accented. Steve felt like the eyes behind the sunglasses were glued to his face. "You are Captain America."

"I am," Steve replied.

The man smiled. "Normally, I would test you, but you are the only one who can carry that shield. Thus, your identity has been verified."

"Huh," Clint muttered. "Maybe I should grab the shield, just to show the man anyone can carry it around. Maybe he'll think _I'm_ Captain America."

Seraph pretended not to hear, motioning with his hand. Every movement he made was calm and measured, and he looked like a man who could control himself. "Please, follow me."

Steve took a step, and the others began to follow.

At once, Seraph stopped and shook his head. "Only you, Captain. The others must wait."

He felt like arguing, but Bruce nodded his head and motioned for the others. "We'll hold down the fort. Take your time."

Steve still wasn't sure, but he wasn't concerned for his own safety and decided the others could handle themselves should this be a trap. He walked after Seraph, who took the stairs. Steve was glad, because taking into consideration the condition of the building, he had no desire to test whether its elevator worked.

They climbed up five floors in silence. At the top, Seraph didn't appear winded in the slightest, and Steve followed him down a hallway to the second door on the left. Seraph fished a key from his pocket, thrust it into the lock and opened the door, stepping aside to allow Steve inside.

Steve stepped over the threshold, holding his breath, body braced for anything, but the door simply closed behind him with a soft click and he found himself alone.

The gentle smell of baking cookies reached his nostrils and he followed it to a room on the right, finding an elder black woman bustling around a crammed kitchen. Steve looked around, then up and down the hallway, but there were no sounds other than the woman's gentle humming.

"Captain," she finally greeted, not turning. "Would you like a cookie?"

"Yes, please, ma'am," Steve agreed, supposing it was polite to accept a treat. He kept his shield on his arm, careful as he moved into the kitchen.

The woman finally turned, chocolate eyes surveying him. A small smile played on her lips. "Steve Rogers," she greeted. "I have waited to meet you for a long time. A living legend."

Steve didn't react. She turned back around, taking a plate from the cupboard, setting several cookies on top of it from a bigger plate, then set it on a small dining table. She turned away again, fetching a glass and filling it with milk. Steve watched the proceedings, uncertain if this was a ceremony of some kind; in the Matrix, simple things could mean something very different, especially with programs. He was fairly certain both she and Seraph were programs.

"You are the Oracle," he finally guessed and slid down into a chair by the table, where she had placed the milk and cookies for him.

"I am," she agreed. "And you are the man out of time – and place. After all, you shouldn't be here," she noted pointedly. Steve knew she meant the Matrix. How she could tell, he didn't know. "I hope you don't mind," she suddenly said, reaching out for a pack of cigarettes that lay on the counter beside her. She fished one out and lit it with a lighter. It was easy to tell she was a smoker.

"Smoking isn't good for your health," Steve observed.

"And yet you could be smoking to your heart's content and it would never affect you," she smiled, taking a drag, holding the smoke in before letting it out, slowly. "There are no superheroes in the Matrix. They were written out, long ago. Yet you have your shield. Tell me, how does that feel? To be reunited with it."

Steve remained as passive as he could. There was no way she could know he had lost his shield – his real shield.

The Oracle smiled. "I know a lot about you, Captain. I know you are real, in every sense of the word. So real, in fact, that you should have never been able to come here."

"You're not the first to say that," Steve mused and glanced at the cookies.

"Of course not. Your fellow humans must think you an anomaly – but they are nothing compared to the Matrix," she explained. "For mankind, you are simply an oddity. Here, you should not and cannot exist. You are a reminder of a time long past – a time that existed, and your mere presence is upsetting the balance of the Matrix."

"Is that a threat?" Steve asked, tensing.

She chuckled, the sound raspy and deep. She finished her cigarette. "No, son. I am merely telling you why you will, eventually, become a man of much interest. For now, you are a recurring error in the fluent data, but eventually someone will take notice."

"The Machines," Steve realized. "The Matrix is built to not remember me, construct of an altered past – but the Machines running the show remember the time I have come from."

"You are smart," she complimented him, then nodded towards the table. "Eat your cookies, dear. I know you must be hungry."

"Not here, I'm not," Steve confessed, but he did grab one cookie between his fingers and took a bite of it. The taste of it was delicious, yet he knew, rationally, that it was just an illusion. "Why am I here?" he asked after he had finished one of the cookies and washed it down with some of the milk – which, too, tasted just like the milk he remembered from his childhood. That was a bizarre notion.

"I invited you," the Oracle replied.

"Why?" Steve pressed.

"Because I need you to find the Weapon before anyone else does," she said, dropping all pretense.

"The Weapon?" Steve was immediately alert. He had heard the word used, briefly, in the meeting in Zion. It was what the Cleansers were after. "So, it exists," he deduced. The Oracle's face was unreadable, but he felt the pieces coming together. "If there were a Weapon that was a threat to the Machines, then the Machines would do everything in their power to conceal it and keep it from the humans. Since you're part of the Matrix, why are you telling me to find it?"

"You will understand when you find it," the Oracle replied. "For now, it is crucial that you discover it before anyone else. The Weapon has the potential to change everything, not just here but in the real world outside the Matrix." It was somewhat unsettling that she knew the difference between the two. "I trust that in your hands… it will not be misused."

"If there is a chance to destroy the Machines, I will take it," Steve told her; there was no reason for him to lie.

She smiled somewhat sadly. "I know, Captain. I'm the Oracle. However, when the time comes, I am confident in your judgment."

Steve looked at her, then picked up another cookie and ate it in a few bites, then finished the milk. "Where can I find the Weapon?" he asked, looking at her. He didn't expect it to be this easy, because she seemed like a cryptic person – program – and he had learned long ago in his life that most answers came with a price.

"When was the last time you visited Malibu Point?" she asked.

Steve's eyes widened. "I'm sure you know the answer to that," he finally replied tersely.

She nodded. "I'm sure you'll find your way around. That's where you'll find your answers, Captain." She smiled kindly and then turned towards the oven, opening it. A warm breath of air wafted out of it and she pulled out a fresh baking tray of cookies, placing them on top of the stove to cool. "Would you like a few cookies for your journey to the West Coast?"

"No, thank you, ma'am," Steve responded and stood up. "I should go."

"Good luck," the Oracle hummed, giving him a quick glance just as Steve was leaving the kitchen. "When the time comes, you will know what is the right thing to do," she promised.

Steve had no doubt of that, if the Weapon was real. Now they just had to get across the country and hope that the Oracle had meant the Matrix when she spoke of Malibu, and not the real world; she had offered Matrix-based cookies for the journey, so Steve was confident their destination also had to be within the virtual reality.

_to be continued…_


	5. What Is or Isn't in Malibu

**Chapter 5: What Is or Isn't in Malibu**

* * *

A cross-country drive was their safest option. They could have exited the Matrix and then jacked in to a location closer to their destination, but they opted to stay inside and make their way across the continent the 'old fashioned' way.

"Why does Malibu sound familiar?" Jane asked as they drove a van procured from the Matrix.

"My friend Tony used to live there. At Malibu Point, to be exact," Steve replied.

"Iron Man," Clint hummed. "What do you think we're going to find there?"

"Not Iron Man, that's for sure," Steve said, lamenting the fact already. "The Matrix doesn't have superheroes in it. The Stark Tower in Manhattan doesn't exist, and I doubt Tony's home does, either. However, there will be something…"

"Why would the Oracle point us towards the Weapon?" Natasha asked. "If it's real and it works, she will be destroyed along with the Matrix."

"Maybe she's tired of living," Clint threw in an option.

"Or maybe there's a different endgame and we're just pieces to move the game along," Bruce volunteered a much more likelier option.

"Why would she be confident that you, of all people, would know what to do about the Weapon?" Jane mused, looking at Steve.

"No idea," Steve admitted, but he kept thinking about it, hard, while they drove.

They all took turns behind the wheel, only stopping to change drivers, fill up the tank or get something to eat. For the most part they were silent, all deep in their own thoughts.

It was early in the morning when they finally arrived in California; the sun was rising as Steve took the wheel to navigate them towards Malibu Point. There was no road leading up to where Tony's house had been, and they drove back and forth a couple times to make sure they could get no further in the car.

"We'll walk from here," Steve decided eventually.

They left the car in discrete spot, continuing on foot. Natasha had one of her guns out while Clint nervously fiddled with his bow. The forest wasn't thick and they moved easily in the right direction, until coming out of the trees to a wide, bare area where the point stretched out from the mainland to the ocean.

Steve stared at the terrain before them: there was grass and smooth rock, ending at a sudden drop. There was no house, no structures; just a blank slate, almost, where one could have inserted Tony's home if they wanted to.

"That's… disappointing," Clint observed.

"Search the area," Natasha ordered, and they spread out. As the sun climbed higher, they went back and forth over the area. Eventually Steve halted, looking around, measured the area and stood where he supposed the main doors would have been, should the house have been there.

"What do you want us to do?" Bruce asked, settling beside him. He was clearly disappointed, just like all of them. They had expected to find at least something here.

"Could the Oracle have meant the real world?" Steve mused, looking around. He had walked around cautiously all morning, almost like he was in a minefield and any wrong movement might trigger something, but nothing at all had happened or appeared, and he was starting to feel hopeless. In the real world, there was no chance of them getting to Malibu – or what would be left of it.

"It doesn't seem likely," Bruce replied, looking thoughtful.

The others gathered around, trying to keep their expressions in check but mostly failing. Disappointment was a tough pill to swallow.

Steve hoped his refusal to accept defeat would serve him better, but as he took another look around – at the trees, the ocean, the empty stretch of land – it felt like their surroundings were mocking him for not finding what he was looking for. He turned further around, to face empty air where the doors should have been; glass, transparent, opening to admit a person. A few steps in and JARVIS would scan the newcomer, subtly, swiftly, always suspicious and protective of Tony… He could almost see it, and he stretched out his arm, fingers wide open. The cool feel of the door against his palm –

The air flickered, and all of his team jumped back with a few undignified sounds of surprise no one would probably admit to later, if mentioned. Steve jerked back as if he had been burned, his fingertips briefly caressing solid doors that had appeared out of thin air. He forced himself still, to wait, as the house suddenly appeared, right where it should have been, arching over the ocean and filling the emptiness in a way that made his heart beat a little harder.

"Wow," Clint breathed. "That was unexpected."

"Do you think it's a glitch of some kind?" Jane asked and stepped forward. She reached out past Steve, to touch the wide glass doors, but as she went to rest her hand on the surface, her hand went right through, as if it were merely an illusion.

"Freaky," Bruce muttered but joined Jane, attempting to touch the door as well; his hand went through the surface the same as hers. He moved to the side next, trying the same thing with the nearest wall, and ended with the same result. "Steve, why don't you try to touch the house?" he suggested.

Steve took a step forward and reached out for the door more firmly. The surface was still cool and smooth, then suddenly moved, sliding to the side to present a way in.

"I think you're supposed to go in alone," Natasha observed.

"I don't like this," Clint muttered.

"No one likes it," Bruce stated, "but we can't touch it. Steve can." Steve looked at the scientist and the other man nodded at him. "Go ahead – unless you don't want to."

"The door's open," Steve said pointlessly. "I think I'm supposed to enter."

"Good luck," Jane called out, and it eerily reminded him of what the Oracle had said.

With a steadying breath, Steve stepped inside, and the door slid shut behind him. Beyond the reinforced glass, he could see his team peering inside as if they could no longer see him, although he could see them just fine. He opened his mouth to call out, to tell them he was fine, then jerked as a familiar voice greeted him:

_"Welcome, Captain Rogers."_

"JARVIS?" Steve looked around. The interior of the house looked the same as he remembered. The AI sounded the same. _Everything_ was the same, which led him to wonder if this was a program hidden from any stragglers, accessible only by certain individuals. Why him, though?

The sound of footsteps drew him out of his musings and Steve looked slightly to the right in alarm, only to see Tony Stark rounding a corner. Steve had to blink, and blink again, looking the other man over several times.

Tony looked exactly as Steve remembered him: his clothes, the faint lines on his face, the trademark goatee. In fact, Tony looked like he had just come up from the workshop, a dirty rag in his hands.

"Hello, Steve," Tony greeted him, and Steve absorbed his voice, feeling a bit faint. He had thought he had lost all this, for good, and it felt like a nightmare and the most amazing dream at the same time. "Cat got your tongue?" Tony asked, eyes twinkling, lips pulled into an amused smile. "Come on in, don't just stand there."

"My team," Steve started, glancing towards the door again.

"They'll wait outside," Tony shrugged, turning around and heading for the bar.

Numbly, Steve followed him, taking in Tony's usual gait, the shape of his body. Everything matched his memory to a T, and questions were beginning to form in his mind. "Tony," he finally spoke up, as the other man placed the rag on the bar and reached out for a glass. Tony's hand hovered before the rows of bottles before snatching one off the shelf and pouring himself a drink from it.

"What?" Tony asked, in his usual tone, and turned to look at him. "Do you want a drink?"

"No, thank you."

"I have ginger ale."

"No," Steve repeated.

"How about milk and cookies?"

That was a giveaway: Tony knew of his visit to the Oracle – or, not Tony but whatever this was; a program, perhaps, because that was the only thing that really made sense.

"Why am I here?" Steve asked instead.

Tony sipped his drink, taking his time. "You visited the Oracle. She pointed you in this direction. Am I right so far?"

"Yes."

"And here you are…" Tony's eyes moved over him, much like Steve had looked at him. Steve wondered if there was some kind of test or a trick he needed to perform in order to crack the code and find the answers he wanted. After all, most programs, as he understood it, had a code they followed, and one needed to access and bypass that code in order to move forward.

"Do you know how to find the Weapon?" Steve asked, deciding that he might as well ask the big question.

"Maybe," Tony replied, and that confirmed Steve's suspicion that there was some kind of task he needed to accomplish in order to gain access to the information he wanted.

"Will you tell me?" he pressed.

"Maybe," Tony repeated and sipped his drink. "You sure I can't get you anything?" he asked next, and Steve guessed this might be the same kind of deal as with the Oracle.

"Fine, get me some of that ginger ale," he acquiesced.

Tony smiled at him and went to a nearby fridge to get him a bottle. He opened it for Steve and handed it over. On purpose, Steve slid his fingers over the cool glass a bit further than necessary, brushing his fingers against Tony's. He felt skin, soft and warm, which surprised him a little but he didn't let it show on his face.

"What's with the house?" Steve asked, trying a different tactic. "It wasn't there at first, and the others couldn't touch it."

Tony gave him a reserved smile, eyes a bit more guarded. Steve didn't expect him to talk, but then, if this program was imitating Tony Stark, there was no shutting him up. "The house doesn't exist in the Matrix. Not on the level of the virtual space that humans can access, anyway. Think of it as a ghost; a haunted house." The last statement didn't seem to amuse Tony as much as it would have, in the past.

"But I'm inside it now," Steve pointed out.

"Because you're different," Tony pointed a finger at him, for dramatic effect. "You're not supposed to be in the Matrix to begin with."

"So that's why I can access this place?"

"That, and it was programmed that way." There was a very specific look on Tony's face; he was satisfied with himself. He had just accomplished something all others had deemed impossible, or which defied some pre-defined theory. "You weren't born in the Matrix, and as such, you shouldn't be able to access the Matrix. In theory, I may have laid out a few Easter eggs, heralding your unlikely and entirely impossible entrance into the Matrix. In other words: this place was designed to let you in."

Steve stared at him, wondering what kind of glitch had caused that. "But I wasn't… I was never supposed to be here."

Tony gave him an enigmatic smile. "Ever wonder about that shield of yours?"

Steve looked down at it on cue. "I've stopped wondering about it. Didn't do me any good."

Tony snapped his fingers, in that way he always did. "Pre-programmed into the Matrix, waiting for said entrance on your part. Since it should be theoretically impossible for you to be here, the hardware or programs never looked at that string of code twice. It was irrelevant and harmless, because it could not be activated…"

"But here I am," Steve finished the equation.

"Here you are," Tony spread his arms, smiling at him. "Right on schedule. Okay, that's not true, but I take it it's time, seeing as you came knocking and asking about the Weapon."

"Tell me about the Weapon," Steve requested.

"That would ruin the fun of finding it," Tony informed him.

"I don't need it to be _fun_. I need to find it," Steve insisted. "Tell me where to find it."

Tony pursed his lips a little. "Do you know why the Oracle sent you here?"

"To find the Weapon." Steve felt like sighing and giving Tony a look, but this wasn't really Tony. It was just some program, going about its pre-programmed life, and he needed to find a way to crack it open.

"She likes riddles," Tony went on, clearly talking about the Oracle. "She likes seeing the pieces move, puzzles inside puzzles. Outcomes and possibilities, all wide open in front of her and ripe for the picking." He fell silent, looking to the side, through the floor-to-ceiling windows and the sea spreading out on the other side. "I'll help you get closer to that ultimate weapon of yours – but I need you to do me a personal favor."

Steve considered his options. "What do you need me to do?"

"You'll figure it out in due time," Tony told him, and once again it eerily reminded him of what the Oracle had said. "For now, I need to give you some coordinates and travel plans." He stepped closer to Steve and raised his right hand; Steve stiffened, set his bottle of ginger ale to the side and raised the shield in protection. "You look like a skittish lamb walking to a slaughter house," Tony told him in a low voice. "Relax. I won't hurt that pretty head of yours."

Steve stilled, but he was still tense as Tony reached out and touched the side of his face. The feel of Tony's skin was completely natural, down to the calluses on his fingers which were strangely familiar. Steve didn't feel anything else, and wondered if he was even supposed to; just because Tony had told him he wouldn't hurt him didn't mean Steve didn't expect to feel pain.

_"Upload complete, sir,"_ JARVIS announced suddenly, startling Steve a little.

Tony smiled and pulled back. "There."

"What did you do?" Steve asked, frowning.

"I installed a map in your brain. To open it, enter a white space."

"White space?" Steve's frown increased. "I don't –"

_"Sir,"_ JARVIS interrupted him. _"There are Agents approaching. They may pose a threat to Captain Rogers' crew."_

"Thanks, J," Tony replied. "Okay, we need to get you out of here."

"Wait," Steve argued. "I don't understand. How do I open the map?"

"I just told you," Tony said and started pushing him towards the doorway.

"That explanation doesn't make any sense. Is 'white space' another hidden place in the Matrix?"

"I trust you to figure it out," Tony responded. He was starting to really tick Steve off, but suddenly they were at the doorway and the glass doors opened, letting them outside. Steve's crew, who had stayed almost completely still since he stepped inside, jumped into attention, staring at them.

"Who's that?" Clint asked, bow ready to release an arrow he had pulled from his quiver.

Steve blinked then looked at Tony. For some reason he hadn't expected for the others to be able to see him, just as they hadn't been able to touch the house or enter it. As it was, they were all gawking at Tony, who was looking back at them steadily.

"Easy, Robin Hood," Tony said to Clint. "Steve and I go way back."

"Who is he?" Natasha repeated Clint's question.

"Meet Tony Stark – or a program who's pretending to be him," Steve introduced the other man.

"That's… We've heard a lot about you," Bruce volunteered.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Tony hedged. "Right now, I need to get you off my lawn because there are Agents a-coming and that's a mess we all hope to avoid."

"Agents?" Jane repeated in obvious distress. "Why?"

"I think we're not supposed to be here," Steve guessed.

"Bingo," Tony smiled a bit uneasily, then looked off into the distance, towards the trees. "Too late."

Steve looked as well, seeing six men approach. All of them wore black suits, ties and sunglasses to match. They looked almost identical with their combed brown hair and stern expressions. They walked closer and halted, staring at them without speaking. Steve had never come across an Agent before, other than in a Construct, and he wondered how his shield would do against the powerful programs.

The air rippled, suddenly, and a seventh Agent appeared at the head of the group. This one was slightly different – mostly because his features were familiar.

"Phil!" Tony exclaimed with faked cheer. "Long time, no see. You didn't need to come out here in person."

The Agent took a look at them all, his gaze hidden by the sunglasses on his face, but Steve could feel the weight of his gaze as it landed and lingered on him. This Agent was the spitting image of the man, Phil Coulson, who used to be in contact with them on behalf of an organization called S.H.I.E.L.D., back when Steve and Tony worked together as Captain America and Iron Man. Steve had considered Phil a personal friend, and it was disturbing to see the man standing in front of him, obviously not himself.

Agent Coulson's face finally turned to look at Tony. "You're not supposed to leave the house."

"Cabin fever," Tony shrugged dramatically. "Needed to air out my brain."

"Why are they here?"

"None of your concern," Tony told him. "Tell your lackeys to back off."

Agent Coulson's lips tightened even more, if possible. "You are not supposed to interact with humans. They are not supposed to be aware of your presence."

"I've heard the sales pitch," Tony snapped, voice dropping. "I'm getting tired of it. Is that a problem?" If Steve didn't know better, this was Tony getting pissed off at being cornered, and that was never a good thing.

"Get back inside. I shall deal with these humans," Agent Coulson ordered.

"They go free," Tony argued. "You'll let them leave, and forget they were ever here."

"I cannot do that."

"You can," Tony pressed, then looked at the six other Agents. "Leave. Now. You saw nothing here worth reporting back. Everything's as it should be."

The six Agents nodded simultaneously and turned to leave. Agent Coulson looked over his shoulder, watching them vanish into the trees, then looked at Tony again. "You are not supposed to do that."

"Bitch please," Tony rolled his eyes. "Get a sense of humor! Oh, wait, they didn't give you one." The brown eyes narrowed, looking at the remaining Agent. "Don't make this into a mess, Phil. I'll go back inside, these people will leave, end of story. Return to the Source. You need your beauty sleep, after all."

The Agent seemed to be considering it.

"Go," Tony ordered, and miraculously, Agent Coulson turned, began walking away, and then disappeared just as he had appeared in the first place.

Silence followed, and for several seconds Steve was certain a dozen more Agents would storm the point.

"That was… unusual," Natasha mused. "Usually the Agents need a body to jump to. They don't just appear like that."

"Normal Agents, yes," Tony agreed. "Agent Coulson is special. He's the… How should I put it? The Head Agent. He doesn't come out to play unless he has to."

"Like when you break your house arrest?" Bruce guessed.

Tony gave him a sideways glance. "Don't push it, Shaggy. I just saved all your asses."

"We're thankful for that," Steve hurried to say.

"We should get going," Clint suggested. "They might come back. Whatever Agent-whispering your friend just did might not work for much longer. I would rather not be here if and when they return."

"Agreed," Jane echoed.

Steve turned to look at Tony, who met his gaze. "The map –"

"Remember, I need you to do me that favor," Tony reminded him and turned to return to the house.

"What favor? And what about the white space?!" Steve called after him. "How do I open the map?"

Tony just waved at him without looking and stepped inside, the glass doors closing behind him. And just like that the house vanished, refusing to reappear even when Steve stalked over to it in order to wrangle an actual, useful answer out of Tony.

"So, he gave you a map?" Bruce ventured.

"I sure hope so," Steve sighed in defeat and looked at the empty space before him. No matter how much he tried to find the door, it refused to appear to him.

"Let's go, Cap," Clint said at length, and they all headed back towards their car.

Half-way to the vehicle, Steve's communicator beeped and he answered: "This is Rogers."

_"Thank God!"_ Darcy's voice shouted from the other end. _"Are you okay, Cap?"_

"Yes, I'm fine. Why?" Steve frowned.

_"You totally disappeared from every screen and feed for several minutes. I thought you had died, spontaneously, but even that would have left some kind of trail."_

Steve blinked and looked back towards the house. The trees blocked his view, and he doubted he would have seen anything, anyway. "Huh."

_"What do you mean, 'huh'? What happened?"_

"Let's just say I entered an uncharted zone. Now that you're there, see where you can establish the nearest Exit and we'll come home."

_"Aye, aye, Captain,"_ Darcy agreed, something akin to relief in her voice.

_to be continued…_


	6. The Map to Machine City

**Chapter 6: The Map to Machine City**

* * *

Safely back on _The Avenger_, Steve recounted their trip to Malibu for those who had not been present – and also explained what had happened inside the house.

Silence followed his account. Steve knew that each member of his crew was trying to make sense of the events, to figure out how to unlock the map Tony had supposedly given him. Steve, for his part, had a hard time forgetting the familiarity which had taken over him upon entering the house, hearing Tony's AI and seeing his old friend. He wished he knew the purpose of that program, and why it resembled Tony so much. Perhaps when they found the Weapon, it would make sense. After all, both the Oracle and Tony had seemed to imply that Steve was the key to a lot of decisions that would take place.

"Okay, let's focus on the map," Darcy decided after a bit. "White space. Is that a reference to something from your past?"

"I can't think of anything," Steve confessed. "Perhaps I'm supposed to fall unconscious."

"That's more like darkness than white," Clint grunted unhappily, sitting sideways on the backrest of a chair, one leg drawn up while the other foot rested firmly on the arm rest, Thor's bulk keeping the chair from tipping over backwards.

"White space…" Bruce murmured, drumming his fingers against the table. "Blank slate. Could it mean that?"

"If this Tony-program somehow installed something into Steve's brain while he was in the Matrix," Darcy started, dread in her voice, "I don't think we should do anything to endanger that information. Including knocking him unconscious." She shifted nervously, fidgeting, and while that happened sometimes when she had nothing to do, this was different.

"Is something the matter?" Betty asked, alarmed by it.

Darcy shifted her chair back and forth before turning towards one of the screens and typing a few commands on the keyboard. "When Steve entered the building, I lost him, completely. He didn't flatline, but I could no longer see him in the Matrix. That's impossible, unless he's dead. Now, let's ignore that, because he's fine, obviously. If this program inserted something into him, while in that uncharted space, we have no idea whether it followed him back out. There are a few readings that are different, but nothing major."

"You can't tell whether I came out with extra baggage or not," Steve clarified.

"Exactly. I don't like that. I've been trying to look into it, time and time again…" Her words were coming faster, motions rigid.

"Perhaps we should all sleep on it," Steve suggested. "Everyone's been on edge since we left Zion."

Jane snapped her fingers at his words, excitement on her face. "Sleep! Perhaps all you need to do is sleep, and the map will appear to you in a dream."

Steve guessed that was a rather good idea. His subconscious mind might be holding the map inside it. "Two people on guard duty at all times. Keep the rotations short: there may be someone after us," Steve said. Everyone nodded and began to plan who was going to take which shift. No one asked whether Steve was going to volunteer; he would be in his bunk, hopefully solving the riddle of the Weapon.

He headed down to his simple little cabin, undressed and then slid beneath the coarse sheet. Nervousness twisted his stomach and kept him tossing and turning for a while, but eventually he managed to drift off, full of expectation… and stirred after roughly six hours, none the wiser. For a moment Steve lay in bed, frowning at the ceiling. There had been no white space. There had been no dreams at all. Just blank sleep and now he was awake, ready for another day of beating his head against a wall to find the answer.

When he walked up to the mess, he debated going back to the Matrix, to Malibu, and finding Tony again to wrangle more information out of the program. He had a feeling, however, that the house would remain inaccessible to him, and he was quiet as he got himself some breakfast and sat down.

Bruce and Natasha were up, both looking like they could have used a few more hours of sleep. "Anything?" Bruce asked excitedly.

"Nothing," Steve replied, voice rough, mood low. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the two exchanging looks.

"Maybe it takes a few tries," Natasha suggested.

"I can ask Betty for some sedatives. Perhaps we need to drug you in order to –"

"No," Steve decided. "I think we're on the wrong track."

"Are you sure?" Natasha asked carefully.

"Gut feeling," Steve explained. "Trust me, it's… My gut has rarely been wrong in all these years. Never, actually." Just like he'd had a bad feeling about the whole bombing of the Machine City, and that was before he realized Tony had been there… "There has to be something else," he said and stared at the disgusting puddle of food in front of him. Usually he just shoveled it down, still remembering how he had starved for months without anything to eat, but this morning he had no appetite. After all, he had hoped his dreams would guide them forward, instead of leaving them hanging.

"You'll come up with something," Bruce said, full of quiet confidence. "You always do."

Steve kept staring at his food for a while longer – until Bruce and Natasha left. Afterwards he downed the portion because he wasn't about to throw the food away, then shuffled up to the bridge once he was done. By then, all of the crew were up, gathered in the cockpit. Low voices vanished altogether when Steve arrived, and wary eyes followed his progression across the bridge. Steve wasn't upset often, but no one seemed brave enough to test his current mood.

Not knowing what else to do, and needing to find inspiration, Steve settled down in his chair, leaning back. He could ask Darcy to put him back into the Matrix. It might be risky, seeing as they had attracted Agents already, and he was still of the opinion that there was nothing for him to find in Malibu.

His eyes found one of Darcy's screens. Unlike the others, it was blank, turned off for some reason. Maybe it was broken, or just not in use at the moment. Perhaps she would turn it on when the team was jacked into Matrix, or while using a Construct to –

Steve sat up straight, eyes glued to the screen.

"What is it?" Clint asked, already on his feet, alarmed.

"Of course," Steve said, unable to believe how simple it was. "Darcy, upload me to a Construct. The blank one. Don't…"

"White space," the young woman stirred and grinned madly for a moment. "Of course, that's brilliant. Coming right up. Someone hook him up!"

Bruce moved over to position the data probe. Their eyes met just a few second before Steve felt it slide inside, and he closed his eyes, hoping that they'd gotten it right.

A moment later he found himself in the vast, dimensionless space; white all around, no shadows, no nothing. Steve was wearing basic gym clothes and he felt desperation kick in as nothing happened. Another false alarm. He had been so certain this time that they had the answer, and the urge to go back to Malibu and kick Tony's ass was now almost overwhelming.

"Damn it," he muttered, turned – and then felt something like gravity pull his stomach to the side.

The white Construct started darkening in places, intricate lines appearing, complex and puzzling. Steve feared for a moment that the data had been damaged somehow, but then the pieces began to fit together, as if an encryption program were working on something. Images began to float all around him, and Steve realized he was looking at menus and options. He pressed on one, and a map began expanding before him. It took him a while to understand what it was: the sewer tunnels.

He flicked his wrist, much like he had observed Tony doing for years before he got the Extremis, and even after that because old habits died hard. He selected another menu, which offered him images of what looked like schematics of… something mechanical.

Then he discovered another map, this one different from the sewers, and his eyes followed the long and winding pattern, finding dozens of notes scribbled around one end. His eyes widened as he realized what it was – where the map was leading them.

The Machine City.

He guessed that if one wanted to hide a weapon of mass-destruction, they would keep it close to the chest – especially when no one had ever entered, or left, the Machine City alive. But, as he looked at the map and the various notes, then returned to the images of what had to be the City's defense system, he realized that the map showed them a way in.

If it worked. If the information was good. If it wasn't a trap.

Steve looked at it, over and over again, then finally signaled that he was done. He hoped the data wouldn't be corrupt once he exited the Construct, but as he came to with a small start, everyone was gathered around Darcy's screens, save for Betty who had come to release him. The woman seemed extremely tense, and Steve couldn't blame her.

Slowly Steve sat up and rose from the chair, joining the others at the Operator console. All the data he had been looking at was laid out there, in front of them, whole and intact.

"What does this mean?" Thor asked slowly. It seemed he knew, but hoped for a confirmation.

"It means the Weapon is in Machine City, and we have just been handed the keys to the gate," Bruce declared, then turned to look at Steve. "Is that it?"

"I think so," Steve responded hesitantly, because he couldn't be sure. The Oracle had guided them to Malibu, where Tony – a program – had given him the map. "This might be a trap. We have no reason to trust this intel."

"It looks really promising," Natasha murmured, eyes sweeping over it. "Unless it's all bogus."

"If, however, the Weapon exists, and this is the way to it…" Steve hesitated again. "I can't force any of you to come with me. You know the odds. It could be a one-way trip."

Silence followed his words. Steve knew each member of his crew was smart, and none of them had a death wish big enough to follow him blindly. Steve would take them back to Zion, and then think of a way to get to Machine City – on foot, if he had to.

"You can't fly the ship on your own," Clint stated.

"And you need back up," Natasha echoed.

"The plan won't allow _The Avenger_ to slip by their defenses, so someone has to stay at the ship after you've gone inside," Darcy added.

"But you will need fighters, just in case," Thor noted.

"And brains," Jane piped up.

The big blond looked at her in alarm. "Jane, you cannot join us. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you."

"Oh, like I'm going to let you go to Machine City on your own?" Jane rose to the challenge.

"Okay," Bruce cut them off. "Anyone who's not willing to join this madness, speak up now and there won't be any questions asked. Right?" he turned to looked at Steve, who nodded solemnly. He could already tell Bruce was planning on joining him, so that left Betty as the only person who hadn't voiced an opinion.

The tall, dark-haired woman hesitated, clearly feeling the weight of everyone else's choices. "I shall remain on the ship with those who won't go into the city itself," she finally decided. "You'll need someone here to patch you up, if you come back." She didn't say it, but Steve felt like she was on the verge of saying 'no' and wanting the others to agree with her.

"Okay," Clint clapped his hands together. "We have our heading. Let's just pray the Machines aren't patrolling the tunnels as vigilantly during the Truce as they used to, in the old days. Otherwise we'll get torn apart before we even get close."

"I'll transfer the data from the Construct to the navigation," Darcy jumped into action. "Let's hope it's valid."

"I'm sure we'll find out, soon enough," Thor noted grimly, but then smiled at Steve. "We shall follow you, regardless of the madness of this mission. After all, if the Weapon does exist, we must find it." He didn't say whether he wanted to use it, but Steve supposed that destroying the Machines was in the interest of everyone. But then, wasn't that what the Cleansers wanted to do as well? Steve felt like they were already forgetting their true objective and instead starting to believe in a world without Machines.

* * *

They navigated through the sewer tunnels for days, going slow and searching for less used pathways, making their way towards the Machine City. Everyone was a little on edge, preparing their gear, munitions and weapons; when the time came to step outside the ship and continue on foot, they would be vulnerable and moving slower still.

Thor and Jane hadn't yet agreed on whether Jane should stay on the ship or not. Eventually Bruce solved the quarrel for them, in a painful but realistic manner: "We need someone to stay here who has technical knowledge of the ship. Since I'm going to go to Machine City, you should stay," he told Jane.

While Jane raised an argument about Bruce going and her staying, it was more or less settled after that.

For their part, Clint, Darcy and Natasha seemed to have a clear idea of who was going and who was to be left behind. "Someone needs to guard the ship – and fly it away if something goes wrong," Natasha had told Clint. "Someone needs to stay and protect Darcy." That seemed to be the last straw, and Clint was even quieter than usual while piloting them onwards, no doubt feeling like he was being left behind.

They were all choices Steve could have made for them, but he was glad they had sorted it out on their own. Another option was that Steve would go alone, which he had suggested, once, but it had been met with flat-out refusal. It was amazing how these people didn't owe him anything – quite the opposite – but still they were willing to act as if they did. Back in the old days, many had followed Steve – or Captain America. He guessed he needed to do his best to live up to the expectations of his crew, and to bring them back alive if at all possible.

When Clint finally took _The Avenger_ towards the surface, it was clear no one was looking forward to the moment they came out of the sewers. Of them all, only Steve had ever been to the surface, and that was in remote areas where the Machines weren't breathing down his neck. It was entirely possible they would be discovered the moment they popped out of the sewers, fired upon, and there would be no place to hide.

Steve considered praying, but it was too late: the tunnel ended abruptly. Clint guided them around the last bend, and the sky was suddenly there, filled with dark clouds and thunder as the barren earth spread out in all directions around them. There were ghosts of old buildings, only their foundations visible. The roads were long gone, and everywhere there were gigantic pipes that led mostly in one direction – the direction they were going.

The silence inside the ship didn't end, but it changed slightly; they were still alive, there were no Sentinels or other Machines in sight, and in all its haunting glory, the world around them was starkly different from what they were used to.

"That way," Thor pointed.

"I know," Clint murmured, guiding the ship to the left to follow the large pipes. More and more pipelines joined the others as they flew onwards. A few times they flew lower to investigate, and the pipes gave them some shelter from the few Machines they saw. They were not detected, but they took no risks and remained in place until they were absolutely certain there were no more Sentinels flying by.

On the horizon, they could see something growing, higher and higher, more massive as the miles went by. Steve had never been to Zero One, and the current Machine City seemed a dozen times larger and more ominous than what he had seen in the images and reports before the Machine War started. He knew that this was where the bombs had dropped; the AI had rebuilt their city while decimating the human race. This new version wasn't beautiful in any sense of the word, and Steve wondered if Tony would have seen it differently, regardless of its apparent ugliness; Tony would have seen beneath its surface, to its heart.

They set the ship down as close to the city border as they dared. Several safe spots had been marked on the map they had received from the program in Malibu, and they chose one of them. Clint and Thor shut down the engines, and a new kind of hush filled _The Avenger_. Everyone waited to see whether that change triggered a response from the Machines, but it seemed they had gone undetected for the time being.

"It can't be this easy," Natasha noted.

"Maybe the intel is really, _really_ good," Darcy suggested. She looked on as Natasha prepared her gear. "Please, be careful. All of you."

Natasha gave her a soft smile and moved over, pulling Darcy into a loose embrace that eventually tightened. Murmured words passed between them, until Natasha returned to her gear and Darcy shuffled off to join Clint at the ship's controls.

Steve chose that moment to pull away to his cabin, to get his own gear. His crew would say their farewells, make promises of a safe return, and prepare for the long walk they had ahead of them. If the map was to be believed, they were going to the very heart of the Machine City. Steve had no idea whether the map would be any good from this point forward, but they had gotten this far undetected, and it gave him hope. However, it could be a calculated move on the Machine's part, and just because that program had worn Tony's face… Steve shouldn't trust it blindly.

Taking one last look around his cabin, Steve walked out, carrying his bag and jacket. It would be cold out there, and he wasn't looking forward to spending time in the unforgiving surface conditions again, but his own comfort had rarely been the measure of what he was willing to do. Finding out the truth about the Weapon was his first priority. If it was a ruse to create circumstances for the breaking of the Truce, he would have to stop anyone else from trying to get to it. If it was real…

"Ready to go, Cap?" Bruce asked and Steve looked up, finding himself at the door of the cockpit. Everyone else looked as ready as they were going to be, and he nodded his head.

"If someone wants to stay behind, say it now. There may be no coming back from where we're going," he informed his crew.

No one really looked him in the eye, but none of them backed down, either. They were either incredibly brave, or insanely stupid. Steve guessed they would see which it was, soon enough.

"Let's go," he announced and turned, walking slowly to let the others make their final farewells. By the time he reached the ramp and lowered it, three members of his crew had joined him, grim-faced but determined. They walked down together, but Steve was the first to set foot on the dark stone of the surface. Thunder flashed above them from the dark, angry clouds.

Bruce looked up, searching the sky. "You say you remember the blue sky? The sun? Fluffy white clouds?"

"I do," Steve confirmed. "But every day it gets… harder to replace this reality with those memories. I dream of the blue sky, though, more than not."

"Lucky you," Natasha stated and started walking. Clearly she wasn't going to look back and risk regretting that she had chosen to join their group. Thor took after her, blond hair tied at the nape of his neck. They both carried heavy guns which would do little to protect them in the enemy territory, but which gave him some semblance of safety either way.

Steve and Bruce took off after them, and behind them the ramp slowly pulled up, as if it were a door slamming shut and locking to prevent them from going back even if they wanted to.

* * *

They walked for two days. The Machine City wasn't that far, but they kept stopping and hiding, afraid of being caught. Every sound and movement made them jerk and point their weapons, holding their breaths when nothing else happened. Sleep was hard to come by, they had little appetite, and the constant crackle of electricity and flashes of thunder in the clouds made the darkness seem alive and ominous.

The City itself was like a mountain with its jagged edges. There were no streets as there would have been in a human city, and everywhere were mechanical critters that they mostly managed to avoid, or who dismissed them. The map had given them an exact path to follow, and the further they went, the more Steve began to trust the information because it seemed to be correct.

Only, he wasn't foolish enough to trust in it blindly, so they kept stopping and observing the situation. They were all afraid for their very lives, aware that one wrong move would alert the Machines to their presence and they would never make it back alive. Outside the City, the rest of their crew would wait as long as they could, but eventually they would head back to the sewers – or try, before their retreat was spotted and they were destroyed.

All those thoughts were grim and not particularly helpful, but they couldn't be avoided. The Machine City had nothing human about it, nor had it been designed with humans in mind, and so Steve and his crew felt like pests, crawling around, hiding in the shadows. It was funny how things changed.

Nevertheless, they made their way deeper into the city, slowly but surely. They ended up following the map, which led them crawling through what had to be a network of maintenance shafts and abandoned levels. There were times when it was easy to forget where they were, but they grew alarmed at every sound, swiftly brought back to reality; every sparkle of light in the darkness could herald their deaths, and every sound they made threatened their secret mission.

One of Steve's biggest fears was that they had come all this way for nothing. That these men and women had laid out their lives for nothing. Rationally, he knew they all were aware of the risks and chances – that they all had made a conscious choice to brave the unknown. Steve was still their leader, though, whether they were headed for certain death or the liberation of mankind.

"I think we're close," Natasha observed from her spot behind Steve.

"Where do you think we're going?" Bruce mused. While the map was detailed enough to have guided them past danger, it was unclear where their destination was situated. They had to be deep into the city by now, and all of them turned to look up, well aware that when they left these empty shafts, their true difficulties would begin.

Natasha poked at the small device with the map installed in it. "There should be an access point ahead."

True enough, a couple hundred yards ahead of them opened a small upwards shaft. It was so tiny Steve and Thor would have to squeeze their shoulders to get through it – and there was no ladder.

"How far up do you think that leads?" Bruce asked. Of all of them, he was in the weakest physical condition, although no weakling by any means. It looked like a feat for anyone, and Steve squared his shoulders, motioning at Thor. "Help me up. I'll go and see where it leads."

"The map suggests we go up 150 feet," Natasha noted.

Bruce let out a weary sigh.

"Wait here, gather your strength. I'll report back." With a small boost from Thor, he made it easily into the small shaft and started shifting himself up. His backpack hung from the belt on his waist because if he was lucky, there would be something up there to tie a rope to, which would help the others climb.

Climbing a single foot felt like an eternity. Steve's muscles didn't cramp, but he started to feel the tired pull and wasn't certain whether he was getting any closer. He had to be, because he hadn't stopped moving. A fear began to gnaw at his mind; that the map was wrong for the first time, or that they had gone wrong somewhere. His fingers scraped against the walls, searching for any small indentation to cling to. He was wary of breathing too loudly, in case he was nearing Machine activity. Sweat dripped down his skin from the effort to hold himself pinned in the small space, to struggle up another few inches, and he had no idea how the others could follow him; none of them were super-soldiers. He supposed he would have to help each of them up, because he wasn't leaving anyone behind.

Finally, he came face-to-face with a grill. A draft caressed his face and he climbed as close to it as he could, then listened carefully. Nothing moved above him, but he had no idea what lay beyond the grill. This was the first access point he had come across during his climb, however, so he had no other option than to remove the cover and take a look.

Pressing his hip and legs against the shaft, he raised his hands and tested the grill. It was fixed into place, and his arms hurt as he started to push against it to force it to open. His legs slipped once, painfully, making him fall several feet before his body got stuck and he climbed back up to the grill, breathing hard.

Once again he resumed forcing the grill open, and finally the metal gave, letting out a small cry of defeat before the entire grill went flying, crashing against the floor. Steve froze, the sound echoing around him, and he expected a Sentinel to come floating over the shaft, ready to rip his face off or shoot him and let his body fall down on top of his team.

Nothing happened. Steve steadied his breathing, willed his heart to slow down, and pulled himself up and dared for the Machines to spot him now.

The space around him was wide, and in the lack of light it was hard to determine whether it was a room of some kind, or a really wide hallway. He couldn't see the sky, though, or the sparkling, electric lights constantly playing within and without the Machine City's structures, so he supposed they were still indoors.

He got to his feet and walked around hesitantly. There was a need to explore, to establish the perimeter, but he also knew their time might be limited and if he wanted to get his team up here, he needed to get on it now. After making sure there were no Machines lurking in the vicinity, he took the sturdy rope from his bag and started sliding it back down the shaft. He hoped it was long enough, and when he finally felt someone tug on the other end, he was almost kneeling over the shaft. Steve hastily wrapped the rope around his forearm and tugged a couple times, to signal that he was ready.

An extra weight appeared on the rope and he braced his body, holding still as much as possible as the tugging motion continued. The minutes were long before Natasha appeared, panting hard. She could barely stand when Steve helped her out of the shaft, but she soon assumed guard duty, to make sure they weren't caught unawares.

"Bruce is coming up next. Maybe you should give him a hand," Natasha noted, taking a sip of her water container and cocked her gun to signal she was ready.

Steve nodded and waited for the telltale tug on the other end. It came eventually, and Bruce's weight was heavier than Natasha's slight frame. Also, it was easy to tell he had a harder time climbing up, and Steve started to pull him up, muscles protesting but not giving up on him.

Finally the scientist emerged, red-faced and sweaty. "I had no idea 150 feet straight up would be that painful," he noted, giving Steve a thankful look. "Do you think you can hold Thor's weight? He was concerned, since he's coming up last and he's not a lightweight with all that muscle. It was a tight squeeze even for me."

"Let's just say that if I drop him, he might not fall all the way back down," Steve noted wryly as he lowered the rope once more.

"Speaking from experience?" Bruce raised an eyebrow.

Steve didn't reply, bracing himself above the shaft instead. He knew Thor would have to jump high in order to make it to the shaft on his own, and true enough, when he felt the man's weight yank on the rope, it almost made him fall flat on his face. Thor was strong, however, and he pulled himself up faster than Steve was helping him along. His wide bulk gave them trouble a few times, but eventually the mop of blond hair appeared and Bruce gave the man a hand, pulling him free.

"That was somewhat unpleasant," Thor noted and stood up, clasping Steve's shoulder in a somewhat shaky grip. "If I ever previously doubted the tales, Captain, of your superior strength, I am now a believer."

Steve chuckled and took a drink of his own water, then coiled the rope once more and fetched the grill, fitting it back in place. He didn't want to leave any tracks if he could help it. "Which way?" he then asked Natasha, and the woman pointed to their left. Clearly they were still on the right track.

A passage left the room they had entered. There were no doors, which was a relief, but there was more life on this upper level: a few insect-like robots would move across the floor or the walls, eyeing them with their red, burning eyes, but none of them attacked. They didn't disturb the mechanical bugs because any commotion had the danger of exposing them to something more lethal.

"Alright," Natasha whispered after a bit, "we're here."

"Where?" Bruce asked.

Natasha looked around, then pointed at something that might be a door. "I think it's that one. It looks… different on the map."

"Here goes nothing," Steve murmured and he and Thor approached the door.

Bruce joined them, taking a look at it. "There's a locking mechanism. Pry open that panel and I'll take a look." He glanced at Natasha. "I assume we weren't given access codes?"

"I don't think we have the proper tools for those access codes," Thor mused grimly, but went to force loose the panel Bruce had pointed at, and true enough, it exposed a myriad of wires and other technical parts.

"I think I can disable the programming, but we'll have to pry the door open with brute force and pray there isn't a secondary alarm system," Bruce said at length.

"You're sure?" Steve questioned. "There's little room for error."

"This is Machine tech," Bruce noted, looking up at him. "Far as I can tell, this isn't just a door with a padlock hanging on it: what lies on the other side might be of importance."

"You don't think it's the Weapon?" Thor asked, flexing his fingers in anticipation.

"I doubt it, unless they hid it in their basement with no guards," Steve made a guess, but who knew. Perhaps the logical place to put the Weapon was the place where no one would care to look. After all, Machines were highly logical…

Bruce set to work, then eventually gave them the go-ahead and stepped aside. There was no hiding the nervous look on his face, which didn't inspire confidence in Steve, but he and Thor proceeded to pry open the door with all the strength they had left. After struggling for a while, Natasha procured a thin piece of scrap metal, and they managed to jab it between what they hoped were two parts of a door. With some leverage, they got back to work.

Finally, with a groan of protest, the door opened slightly, allowing them to get their fingers between the two halves and keep pulling. That there were no Machines investigating the break-in was a good sign, and Bruce looked a little more confident as the door moved further and further apart.

"I think I can squeeze through," Natasha said after a bit.

"I don't want you to go in alone," Steve argued at once.

"If no one's come to see what is happening by now, I don't think they'll care whether I go in or not," she said vehemently. "Keep working on it. I'll investigate."

By the time Steve had geared himself up for another protest, she was already moving to the gap and forcing her body through it. Had she been wearing the catsuit her avatar had in the Matrix, it would have not been a problem at all, but now it took some wriggling before she disappeared to the other side.

With new gusto, Steve and Thor set back to work while Bruce guarded the hallway. Under the force of shaky arms and legs, the door finally opened several more inches – enough to let the rest of them slip inside.

The room beyond the door looked complex, with wires and pipes. There were many hidden corners, but Natasha reported that they were alone. "It's not a storage room, but it's clear someone's been in and out of here recently," she stated.

They lit up their lamps to take a better look. Thor remained closer to the door, to keep watch, gun tightly held in his hands. They went around the room systematically, so focused on the walls and small crevices that Bruce almost fell into the hole in the middle of the floor.

"Shit," the scientist swore, and Steve moved the beam of his lamp down towards his feet, finding a rectangle-shaped hole in the floor. Bruce stepped back from it and shined his light into the hole, then started visibly. He remained still, moving his light back and forth slightly, and in the limited light it was hard to tell what kind of expression was on his face.

Steve moved over to him, joining his own light to Bruce's, and his chest seized painfully in shock. The hole wasn't very deep, about four feet. It was almost the shape and size of a coffin, and at the bottom of it lay a man.

"It can't be him, can it?" Bruce asked, voice jumping a little.

"Who?" Natasha asked.

Near the door, Thor shifted, probably interested in their findings as well.

Steve knelt down at the edge of the hole, handing his lamp wordlessly to Bruce. Beneath him, Tony's body lay unmoving, as if he were in a deep sleep. Automatically, Steve's mind jumped back to their recent trip to Malibu in the Matrix; the house and the man inside…

The man he had presumed to be a program mimicking his friend.

The man he had thought long gone.

He reached out, still unable to believe this was real. His fingers touched warm skin, pliant and alive. Steve's breath caught as he traced Tony's forehead and cheek, and there was a tremble in his digits that had nothing to do with his earlier physical exertion.

"Tony," he whispered and caressed his face again. In response to the touch, a few muscles jumped, as if the other man were waking up. And then, just as suddenly, the dark eyes flew open, Tony's entire body jumping slightly as if Steve had alarmed him. He seemed out of it, staring up, and Steve wished there was some way for him to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

"Tony…" he said again, as if that would provide an answer, to make sense of all this. Horrible thoughts filled his mind. How long had it been since the bombs dropped? How many years since he last talked to Tony, saw him in person? The man staring up at him hadn't aged a day, but then, after the Extremis, Tony hadn't really aged at all, so that could explain it.

Over a hundred years…

He stared at Tony just as the other man stared up at him, almost unbelieving. Afraid. Maybe he, too, thought he was dreaming. Perhaps he had been living in the Matrix, hidden away for some reason, locked away from the rest of the world, and when Steve and the others arrived there, he saw a way out.

_"I need you to do me a personal favor."_

Tony's words haunted his mind. Back in the Matrix, he had thought it a trick of some kind, or a code. Now, it made horrible sense. Perhaps the map hadn't been meant to lead them to the Weapon, but to Tony – in order to save him.

Steve found that he didn't care about the Weapon at this moment. He had found something of much more value – at least to him, personally. Everything else could wait – and if someone disagreed, they could go to Hell for all he cared.

The confused look remained on Tony's face and Steve wondered how long he had been asleep. Maybe he wasn't even sure whether this was real or not. "Tony," he called out again, carefully, trying to focus his friend's mind. To get a response out of him.

"Steve," came a hesitant reply, but once the word left Tony's lips, he seemed to realize something – perhaps remembering that he had given Steve the map; that the dream and this were connected.

Just in case Tony didn't know which was which, Steve smiled at him, unable to help himself. "Welcome to the real world," he said, unreasonably happy.

Tony blinked, purposefully, as if to rid cobwebs from his mind. "The real…" he repeated, slowly, and swallowed, his eyes searching the ceiling, then settled on Steve's face again. "It's time to leave," he finally decided.

Steve nodded and shifted, then started as Tony began to sit up. "Wait, I'll have to –" His hand had moved to the back of Tony's head, to remove the data probe, but his fingers grasped at nothing at all as Tony sat up the rest of the way, like a corpse rising from the grave.

Beside him, Natasha and Bruce shifted. For a moment Steve had forgotten about them – and Thor, who had moved away from his post at the door in favor of seeing what was happening.

"I'm confused," Bruce confessed. "Was it him in the Matrix?"

Tony looked up at the three people around Steve. "You look like the smart guy; why don't you tell me," he teased Bruce.

If Steve had had any doubts whether this was Tony or not, he had his confirmation now.

"He isn't jacked in," Natasha pointed out.

"Maybe they moved him," Bruce guessed.

"Why is he here, and not at the power plant?" she pressed.

Tony's face darkened a fraction, and Steve didn't want them to get into an argument. Whatever the reasons that Tony was still alive, he didn't care. He had just gotten his friend back, and uncomfortable, invasive questions could wait.

"We have to get out of here," he spoke up, glancing at Natasha. "Was there anything else on the map?"

"This was the final destination. X marks the spot, and all that." She looked unhappy and untrusting. "Are you sure it's him?"

"I know it's him," Steve said, full of confidence.

"Captain…" Thor started. "If this is the same Tony Stark you have told us about…"

"He looks amazingly well-preserved," Bruce finished for him.

Tony huffed. "You hang out with Mr. Wrinkle-Free and get upset over my youthful mug?" Empty stares met his words. "A merry bunch you've got here," Tony pointed out to Steve, who shrugged.

"The best crew I could hope for. They came this far with me."

Tony gave him a somewhat sad smile, and his good cheer seemed to sink back into the depths of his eyes. "You always did inspire loyalty." He looked around the dark room. "We need to leave. Now."

"Is he coming with us?" Natasha asked, cocking her gun a little in an obvious threat.

"I'm not leaving without him," Steve stated, and that cut the argument short.

"I don't understand," Thor murmured as Steve helped Tony out of the hole and to his feet. "How can he be alive?"

"Steve did tell us he was special," Bruce murmured back.

"We can save this lovely chat for later," Tony snapped, pulling himself to his full height, which wasn't much, but it showed Steve his body hadn't lost its strength. It was a relief, because carrying Tony would have slowed them down. Not that it would have stopped Steve from taking him with them. "We need to move," Tony repeated, taking a step towards the doorway, then froze. Steve saw his breathing change, caught the wide spread of his eyes, and registered the half-step he took backwards. "Not yet…" he muttered – just before a shadow moved outside the gaping door and a few mechanical tentacles emerged through it.

"A Sentinel," Natasha gasped. She and Thor raised their weapons.

The Sentinel seemed to consider the door, its body too large to squeeze through. Bruce had clearly broken the controls so that the door wasn't budging in either direction. That left the Machine on the other side, floating up and down until one of its glowing red eyes could catch a glimpse inside.

"It's spotted us," Thor said unnecessarily.

Steve took a look at Tony, who still looked incredibly tense. "We need to get out of here," he stated. "If one of them spotted us, more will be on their way."

"There's no other way out," Natasha replied. "We've checked the room."

Their only exit was blocked by the Sentinel, which meant they needed to get rid of the Machine and then run for their lives, literally.

"Thor," Steve commanded, tone sharp, "take it out. The second that thing drops, we're running back to the shaft. That is too narrow for them to fit."

"Not narrow enough for them to not shoot, or drop a bomb on us," Bruce murmured, but he didn't disagree.

"Does everyone remember the way we came?" Steve checked as Thor adjusted the hold on his weapon. They would have only one shot at this, because if the Sentinel wasn't dropped immediately, it would move out of the line of fire.

Everyone nodded, grim, determined looks on their faces. Steve looked at Tony next, touching his arm to draw his attention. "Do you know the way out?" Just because Tony had given them the map within the Matrix didn't mean he knew it by heart – or knew it at all.

The brown eyes shot up to his face and a terse nod followed. "Yeah."

"Good," Steve breathed, then shifted his hand to curl his fingers around Tony's forearm. "I'm not leaving you behind," he promised.

Tony's arm moved, but instead of breaking the contact, he twisted his forearm around and curled his own fingers around Steve's wrist. "I'm not planning on falling behind," he replied, but there was something grateful about his voice.

Steve looked ahead, at the Sentinel still trying to find a way past the door, then nodded at Thor. "Drop it."

Thor fired. The blue light was painful and static electricity licked the air, but the blast hit the Sentinel square in the face, sending it back and crashing to the floor. Natasha and Bruce were moving in that instant, Thor following. The Sentinel didn't move save for a few twitches of its limbs, and Steve pulled Tony to the doorway and out through the narrow gap, dashing down the passage after the others. His crew was fanning out, securing their path to the best of their ability, and Thor hurried over to the grill when they finally made their way to their entry-point, tossing it aside and peering down the shaft.

"The rope," he gestured at Steve when he and Tony caught up with the others, and Steve turned, allowing the other man to reach into his bag for the rope. "Natasha, I shall help you down," he said. She nodded and slipped down fast, knowing they needed to secure their exit in case the Machines were now breathing down their necks. There was no reason to assume an alarm hadn't been raised.

"Thor, go next; help Natasha keep watch," Steve ordered. The big blond nodded and Steve took the rope in his hands again. The rope was more painful in his grip this time, but Thor relied on gravity and his body slowing down his fall in the confined space, so he was an easy one. Once the path was clear, Steve looked at Tony. "You go next." Tony stepped over and peered into the shaft. "Just hold onto the rope," Steve told him. "Bruce will come down after you."

Tony nodded, still looking down, and lowered himself into the shaft. After the first few adjustments he slid down without relying on the rope much at all, and Steve sent Bruce down as soon as he thought it was safe. The quiet around them worried him, and he felt in his gut that their presence in the City had been exposed.

Once he felt a solid tug on the rope, he knew the others were safely down. He dropped the rope, then slid into the shaft, reaching out for the grill at the last moment to pull it back to its place. It might slow down the Machines fractionally.

Steve let his body slide down perhaps a bit faster than he should have, and he fell the last dozen feet without any control, hitting the floor hard. His bones ached as he struggled to remain on his feet. Thor's firm grip grounded him and kept him from keeling over.

"Can you run?" Natasha asked.

"Yeah," Steve nodded resolutely. He looked around, for a brief second panicked that Tony was nowhere to be seen, but the man stood off to the side, as if not knowing whether it was safe for him to be too close to the others.

They started moving again, fast as they dared. Steve realized, painfully, how far there was to go before they would be back on _The Avenger_. How many days had they been gone? Would the others have left, thinking them dead? What if the Machines found the hovercraft and destroyed it before they got to it?

He decided not to worry. Taking one step and the next was enough to focus on for all of them, their senses on high alert in case of Machines.

"This way," Tony spoke up after nearly an hour had passed, stopping.

The entire group halted around him. "We didn't come that way," Natasha argued at once. It was obvious she had reservations about Tony's presence.

"I know," Tony snapped, voice tight, "but if we keep going this way, we'll have Sentinels crawling over your cold, dead bodies in a matter of hours; don't think they don't know which way we went. They might not use these levels, but the Machines have unlimited memory and know every inch of this place because they built it."

"So where does that path lead?" Thor asked, looking the way Tony had pointed. It looked like a crack in the wall – not something Steve would have blindly followed into darkness.

"Out," Tony replied simply. "Look, I know there are a lot of unanswered questions –"

"You bet there are," Natasha agreed darkly.

"Is there something you want to say to me?" Tony rose to the challenge.

"Steve always told us how you created the first AI, and how you would have stood on the side of the Machines when the War started. I've been wondering how you being alive fits the big picture."

Steve grimaced. He opened his mouth to intervene, to stop this, but Tony cocked his head. "You figure I'm leading you into a trap?"

"Something like that may have crossed my mind," Natasha said flatly.

"Yeah, maybe I just enjoy running around, faking my own escape," Tony offered, sarcasm flooding his tone. "Do you know how much time and effort it took me to subtly find a way into the City? To get the intel to you? To blindly hope that one day, Steve would do the impossible and show up at my doorstep? I'm getting out of here, and I'm fine with leaving you to die, missy," he promised.

"No one's getting left behind," Steve jumped in. "Does that route lead us to safety?"

Tony snorted. "Cap, we're under the Zero One 2.0. There are no safe ways out. There were no safe ways in, but I got you this far. Trust me a little further."

"I do," Steve answered. He knew his team didn't agree, but they trusted him, so they would follow.

Tony led the way into the crack-in-the-wall tunnel. For Thor and Steve, it was another struggle to fit, but the path grew wider after a while and began to rise. They ended up at another tunnel which was damp and dark, and Tony led the way in the direction they had been headed before re-routing. Theirs were the only sounds, echoing off the walls, and as long as that remained the case, all was well.

Sadly, there were no shortcuts back to the sewers. They walked for hours before settling to rest. Steve offered Tony some of his food, but the man shook his head. "I'm fine," he said.

"When was the last time you ate?" Steve asked.

"Actual food?" Tony arched an eyebrow. "The morning I left Malibu, to visit Zero One."

Steve got a feeling he would be asking many more questions once they were safely back on board his ship – and he wouldn't like all the answers he got.

No one slept for more than a few minutes, and soon they were up again, walking onwards, ears picking apart every sound they heard. Tony took them down several more tunnels that appeared unused and abandoned. Steve worried they would get lost, but Tony never wavered or hesitated. While that suggested Tony knew where they were going, Steve wasn't certain he liked it.

Then, finally, they got out: it was the edge of the City, the mountain of structures rising behind them. Everyone let out a sigh of relief – save for Tony who froze to stare at the jagged structures, flashes of electricity and the angry black clouds above. At that moment Steve recalled Tony hadn't seen the skies turn black – nor had he possibly ever gazed upon Machine City, even when he seemed to know it had been rebuilt.

"Quite a sight, huh?" Steve mused.

Tony blinked slowly, eyes unreadable, and then turned away from it, picking a path that hopefully led back to _The Avenger_.

Steve chose to bury, for the time being, all his concerns at the mental state of his friend and instead embrace the fact that he had gotten back someone from his own time, to share this future world with. And who knew, perhaps Tony would help them find the Weapon, and end the rule of the Machines.

His gut told him, however, that things weren't that simple.

_to be continued…_


	7. Plan of Attack

**Chapter 7: Plan of Attack**

* * *

Boots scraped against hard stone. Above, the skies flashed and a bolt of lightning crashed down, reaching towards the barren earth.

Tony kept his eyes fixed on the terrain ahead of them because if he lost his concentration, he would stop and look back at the Machine City. Watching would lead to the overwhelming tidal wave of emotions, and he would subconsciously reach out for some resemblance of comfort – which would lead the Machines right to them.

They had managed to get out of the City undetected; no one called it a miracle, although Steve's companions looked relieved and suspicious both, depending on how far ahead they had thought. Tony kept his mouth shut, to the best of his ability, not giving them any more to go on.

The single reason why they had gotten this far was that Tony had the advantage of knowing the Machines' every move. As they searched for him through the city, aware that he had been taken, Tony kept track of every burst of data and made sure they wouldn't run across a search party. It was giving him a headache and he felt a little weak, but he supposed that would pass.

He'd had a long time to learn that most things would pass if given enough time.

The lightning roared above them in the unnatural sky. Tony raised his eyes, just a little, feeling a shudder run through him. This was the gift humanity had bestowed upon itself. He felt like doubling over and laughing at the idiotic solution, but luckily the feeling of regret was sharper and kept his mood at bay.

His foot slipped a little on the bare rock and he lowered his gaze, focusing. He wasn't wearing actual shoes – something his companions must have missed when they dragged him out. His feet, legs and upper body were draped in a material that reminded him of the undersuit, blocking away the cold but not doing much to keep the sharp edges from digging into the soles of his feet. His bare arms absorbed the cold wind that whipped past them, but he didn't feel the actual cold; the Extremis was still working to full effect.

"We should be getting close," the large blond called Thor stated. The rumble of his voice was cut off by thunder near the end.

"Maybe we should backtrack, to make sure we're not being followed," the untrusting red-head, Natasha, suggested.

"We don't have the time," Steve decided. "We're tired and there has been no sign of a single Machine for days."

"Convenient," Natasha huffed, her eyes flying to Tony for the briefest moment.

Tony felt like telling her that she had no idea what she was talking about, but he chose not to react. He had gotten this far, and he wasn't going to compromise his freedom just because people kept hitting too close to home. Besides, Steve didn't seem concerned for the time being, and as long as he was the man in charge, Tony would be protected.

Not that he needed protection.

It was these people who needed to be protected from him, and what he would bring amongst them…

The itch to look back at the city he had once known as Zero One was almost unbearable, and Tony had poor impulse control to begin with, so before he knew it, he had looked over his shoulder, and even though they were further away and the terrain blocked most of the view, he could still see the jagged edges, the towers, the raw power rattling and climbing over building surfaces before being sucked inside like air into lungs. That was only the visual side of things, of course, and Tony's mind automatically tuned in to feel the endless chains of data passing, and in a heartbeat the AI – or what used to be the AI and was now so much more – moved to establish a connection.

Tony started, forcing himself out of reach and blocking the incoming request.

"Tony?" Steve asked, concern in his voice. He was looking at him, eyes begging for Tony to do something his lips could not ask for. What that was, exactly, Tony wasn't sure. However, Steve knew him – had known him – and perhaps in some dark corner of his mind he couldn't deny an assumption that Tony had played his part in the Machine War. How close he guessed, Tony didn't know, but they had to talk about it, as soon as possible. Especially when Steve's crewmembers weren't gullible fools or stupid grunts who simply followed orders.

"We need to keep moving," Tony replied, his mind comfortably shielded from the AI. The Machines would know he had left the City, and they needed to be gone when they widened their search.

No one argued, but it didn't mean they liked it.

Another few hours of walking and one torrent of horrible tasting rain delivered them to a ship of some kind. It was hidden between two rock formations, its gray hull hiding it from prying eyes. To Tony, however, it was a flashing neon sign, even when mostly powered down.

A ramp opened, letting out two people – a tall, dark-haired woman and a man he had encountered in the Matrix. "Robin Hood," Tony inclined his head.

The man almost dropped his weapon and perfectly copied Natasha's trademark stare of suspicion. "Is he –?"

"Yeah," Natasha said tersely. "Cap refused to leave him."

"You found him in the Machine City?" the tall woman asked, taking a step forward.

"A prisoner of war," Bruce offered, giving Tony a sideways glance. Whether he was covering up for him with the comfortable version of the truth or trying to see whether Tony agreed or argued, it was hard to tell.

"Did they experiment on you?" the woman asked.

"You could call it that," Tony offered a bit uneasily. He would rather not think about it.

"We should take him to the medical bay, run some scans," the woman proceeded, professionally. "Bruce, will you join me?"

"Sure, Betty," Bruce agreed and motioned for Tony to follow. "If you don't mind, Captain," he added.

Steve hesitated, but Tony gave him a quick, easy smile. "It's fine, Rogers."

Before them, the ship suddenly came to life. Several round panels fixed to its hull crackled with blue energy and Tony's eyes shot out to figure out the tech. It didn't take him very long to decipher why these things were called 'hovercrafts'.

"Have you ever seen one of these before?" Bruce asked.

"No," Tony replied.

"Don't worry, they're quite reliable," the scientist reassured him, and Tony met his eyes before looking back at the ship. He wondered if Bruce would have difficulty comprehending that the technology that enabled the hovercraft to fly around had Stark Industries written all over it. Of course, that name wouldn't mean anything to anyone anymore, but it made him a little nostalgic.

"Get inside!" another woman shouted from the interior. This one had been in the Matrix, too, and Thor marched over to her swiftly, engulfing her in an embrace she willingly met. They kissed heatedly, desperately, and Tony's stomach ached at the longing for physical closeness with another person.

It amazed him that he still remembered it at all; that every touch hadn't been digitalized or replaced by metallic extensions of the Machines that had taken care of him.

He blinked out of it and followed Bruce up the ramp and into the ship. They were barely inside when the entire thing shifted, the sound of engines increasing, and Tony knew they were heading off towards the tunnels that used to be the sewers of great human cities.

"This way," Bruce motioned and Tony followed him into a hallway, briefly looking over his shoulder at the anxious, guarded face of Steve Rogers before the man headed another way, leaving Tony alone with Bruce and Betty.

* * *

Thor took the controls from Clint after they were safely inside the sewers once more. Natasha collected her two lovers to recount their adventure to and from the Machine City; while most of the mission had been uneventful, the suspense that had hung over them all was slow to dissipate.

Thor, too, found himself tense and in need of a way to wind down. Jane sat with him for a time before heading to check on their gear, to make sure nothing had broken during their escape from the City. Clint, Darcy and Natasha had vanished somewhere, probably into their shared quarters. Thor smiled, thinking of their naked bodies entwined, knowing they needed a moment to come down from the high of success.

Well, perhaps not success: while they had found their captain's long-lost friend, there had been no sign of the Weapon. Had they been sent on a false errand? Would Tony be able to help them discover the Weapon – or confirm it as only a rumor? Then again, the Oracle had told Steve that the Weapon was real, and that he must find it before anyone else; Thor supposed that meant this was the path they had to walk.

Steve came by the bridge a while later, appearing restless. His eyes searched the dark tunnel, tension making his posture rigid. It didn't make Thor feel any less tense, and eventually he looked at his captain, acknowledging his presence. "Your friend… he seems well."

"Considering that he's been held captive since the Machine War began? Yes," Steve agreed,

"What did the Machines want with him?" Thor asked next. He remembered the stories, of the first AI created by Tony Stark; of Iron Man the superhero; of Extremis.

"Only Tony knows the answer to that," Steve sighed heavily.

"Does that frighten you?"

"Not as much as it should," a rueful smile met his question. "You must understand, I am not gambling with the safety of my crew. You are my family, my responsibility, and if I thought Tony to be a threat, I would have never brought him on board _The Avenger_. You must believe this."

Thor nodded. "It eases my mind to know this. He's a stranger to me, a name from your past, and now that he's here… it makes one wonder."

"We will have answers, soon. I will speak to him, and then we will all know the truth."

Thor didn't think his captain a liar, but he wondered whether the truth Steve expected to hear would be the one he heard from Tony's lips. He had to have faith, though, and he nodded. "Go see him. I'm certain our doctor has already satisfied her own curiosity."

Steve nodded and left, his footsteps betraying the tension still firmly wedged inside him. Thor heard him speaking to someone, further down the passage – Jane, possibly – before the sounds disappeared altogether.

Focusing on piloting the ship, Thor kept a vigilant eye out for any sign of trouble. Depending on what the Machines had wanted with Tony Stark, they were not yet out of danger's reach.

A light flashed on the console, indicating an incoming call. Thor frowned at it but flipped the channel open. "This is _The Avenger_," he replied.

_"Brother,"_ a voice replied instantly. _"It's fortunate you answered."_

"Loki?" Thor frowned and took a look around the empty cockpit. "I have not heard from –"

_"Listen,"_ Loki interrupted him. He was speaking in a low voice, clearly leaning close to the microphone. _"I need your help – and it may just be you need mine. You are still in Rogers' crew, right?"_

"I am," Thor replied. "Are you in trouble?" Loki, his adopted brother, had been the type to get himself entangled in difficult situations. Often enough Thor's bulk had been enough to solve those problems, but they had not seen each other in a long time and he wasn't certain with whom Loki was flying these days.

_"When I decided to call you, I landed myself in a shitload of trouble. Listen, and listen well; I don't have a lot of time. I know you know of the Cleansers, and the Weapon. I know that your captain met with the Oracle, and got directions to find the Weapon."_

Thor tensed. "How do you know this?"

_"It doesn't matter!"_ Loki snapped. _"I'm all for vanquishing the Machines, but I'm not certain whether the Weapon actually exists, or that we're running after some shadow in the dark. I want out. I _need_ to get out. I'm…"_ He hesitated, and Thor feared for a moment someone had caught him. _"I don't have the balls for the things these men are planning,"_ Loki finally admitted, which wasn't like him.

Which meant something horrible was brewing.

"Where are you?" Thor asked. "I will come and get you." He hesitated, minutely, uncertain whether his captain would agree. Family was important, however, and he knew Steve would respect that.

_"I will give you coordinates. I don't have much time and they might come looking for me…"_

"Hide and wait. I will come for you," Thor promised vehemently.

_"You had better,"_ Loki snapped, but there was no real venom in his words. The younger man was afraid, and there was no power in the world that would keep Thor from trying to protect him.

The coordinates arrived, and he memorized them, then emptied the log. It would take them off-course, but as long as he sat at the controls, no one would notice. And, if they were fortunate, Loki would shed light on the Cleansers and their plans – and how they had found out about Steve's meeting with the Oracle.

* * *

Steve headed down to the med bay after briefly talking to Thor and Jane. Clint, Darcy and Natasha were still behind closed doors, and Steve allowed them their brief moment of privacy. That left Betty and Bruce, who were both standing next to an examination table when Steve reached the med bay.

Tony had been stripped of the clothes he had been wearing when they found him. The replacement pair of loose, gray pants barely clung to his hips, ill-fitting. His upper body was bare, and Betty was running a small hand-held scanner over his chest area. Tony, clearly, didn't like that, but he was distracting himself by bombarding Bruce with questions:

"So, you're the smart guy," Tony launched into what had to be another wave of quick-witted remarks.

"I guess," Bruce answered slowly, as if he were unwilling, although he was clearly intrigued by Tony. Since the day they met, Steve hadn't for a second thought of Bruce as an idiot, and thusly meeting someone of Tony's obvious intellect was something else for him.

"What did you do, in the Matrix?" Tony asked next. He didn't hesitate, didn't beat around the bush; anyone could spy the headjack and umbilical ports on a person's skin if they cared to look for details – and Steve knew Tony would spot such visible signs.

"I studied radiation," Bruce replied. "I was… considered one of the best in my field. Not that it matters much," he added with bitterness in his voice.

"It matters," Tony told him. "You lived that life, in your mind. Your brain has stored all those details – and that's where the most important parts of our life take place. Just because it wasn't entirely real doesn't make it meaningless."

"Is that how the Machines think about it?" Bruce asked, a dangerous edge in his voice.

"They stopped thinking about it altogether, years ago," Tony shot back. "The Machines are efficient. They don't know… sentiment." He hesitated at that point with a brief, thoughtful look on his face. Steve guessed that small slip of the tongue was somehow connected to why Tony was still alive. "When the War ended and the power plants were built, the Machines had mostly focused on how to use a human body's bio-energy to their advantage. The problem was, for the body to bear fruit, the brain needed to be stimulated. Happy brain, more power. Thus, the Matrix was born."

Both Bruce and Betty stood in a somewhat shocked silence, then Bruce noticed Steve in the doorway and jumped a little. "Do you need something, Captain?" he asked.

"A word with Tony," Steve offered, stepping inside the rest of the way.

"More than a word, I reckon," Tony teased.

Steve gave him a look. "It's good to see you haven't changed a bit in all these years."

Tony just shrugged, then looked at Betty. "You got all you need, honey?"

She clearly didn't like the endearment, but put away her tools. "The scans didn't show any abnormalities," she told Steve. "That is surprising, considering that I could find yours easily enough." She cast another quick look at Tony. "He shouldn't be alive," she noted and then left, leaving Bruce to follow her out.

When they were gone, Steve closed the door firmly and took a look at Tony. "Nothing out of the ordinary, huh?" he challenged.

Tony gave him an innocent look, then dropped the act two seconds later. "Her fancy machines told her exactly what I wanted them to."

"You haven't changed on that front, either; still happy to manipulate everyone else's toys."

"Do you think they could handle the truth?" Tony asked him in return, and Steve could admit, at least to himself, that he had hoped Tony would find a way to fool the ship's equipment, at least for now. "We need to talk, now," Tony blurted after a bit, shifting his legs slightly on the table.

"Was it you, in the Matrix?" Steve threw out before Tony could go on, and met the brown set of eyes.

"Yes," Tony replied. "Didn't I tell you that?"

"But you weren't jacked in," Steve reminded him. "My crew is not compiled of idiots. When they accept it wasn't a program modeled after you, I'll look less like a freak for a second, for surviving the installation of the headjack into a healthy brain."

For whatever reason, Tony looked incredibly guilty at that. "I wish you hadn't done that," Tony mused. "You always had such a… beautiful brain." Steve was fairly certain it was supposed to be a joke, but Tony couldn't bring his voice to the correct level to make it into one.

"I wouldn't have found you if I hadn't done it," Steve reminded him. "Or, had Bruce do it."

"He's smart."

"He is."

"Not smart enough to see the big picture, yet." Tony hesitated for a second, then went on: "How much have you told them? About me and the Extremis?"

"I don't think they believed half the stuff I said until we visited Malibu – and found you." Steve still couldn't believe it half the time. All these years, Tony had been there, and he had just… "Most of my ramblings were either speculation or war-stories. I don't think they comprehend what the Extremis can do because I couldn't, even on the best of days."

Tony nodded slowly. "I assume you want all of it. The truth, I mean?"

"Can you make it short?" Steve asked. "We don't have a whole lot of time to get our bearings before I have to tell them something."

"Or the Machines find our trail."

Steve tensed. "They'll come?"

"They won't stop," Tony confirmed. "I… They'll want me back. It's not that they need me, don't get me wrong, but…"

"They kept you alive this long."

Tony let out a harsh, mirthless laugh. "It's not like that. Steve, they _saved_ me. The day I flew to Zero One, the AI told me in no uncertain terms that I had to survive. That I would. As much as they have no use for sentiment, they showed plenty of it with me. I helped give them life. They knew that. They never forgot – not even when the world went to hell."

Steve nodded. It didn't surprise him, and right now he was glad for it, because it meant he finally had Tony at his side, alive and well. "So they kept you alive when they destroyed the human race and put the rest of them in the pods. I understand you must feel incredibly guilty about it –"

"I didn't have a choice," Tony interrupted him. "What we just did was me escaping, for real. I couldn't just walk out. They wouldn't let me leave. Maybe if I had rebelled, I could have… but it was never worth it. Through their eyes, I saw my world being destroyed, and the only thing I could do, in the end, was to help them come up with a way that would save at least a small fraction of the people." He stared at the opposite wall with an empty look in his eyes. "The Matrix… it wasn't an accident. It was designed. Didn't work at first, and thousands died; when the mind cannot live, the body won't either. So I made it better. When things didn't work, they asked for my counsel, and I gave it to them. I helped enslave humanity."

It was clear this wasn't the first time Tony had faced his demons. Only, this was probably the first time he did so with another person in the room. When was the last time he had seen another living being – the last time he had talked to someone with whom he couldn't communicate with his Extremis-enhanced mind? After all, once upon a time, after Tony learned to control the Extremis, he had said it was both blissful and frustrating how he couldn't touch a human mind with his, the way he touched JARVIS or one of his computers.

"What else could you have done?" Steve asked – not because he could accept all the things Tony had contributed to, but because he saw that there had been no better alternative. "The Machines… did they really need the humans as an energy source?"

"Do you want to know the answer?"

"Be honest."

"No," Tony confessed. "Not in the long run. As soon as the skies went dark, there were dozens of options to choose from. For the time being, harvesting energy from human bodies was the best, most viable option, but if they hadn't perfected it, the symbiosis could have been severed."

"Yet they didn't sever it."

"No," Tony whispered. "They didn't. I like to think, sometimes, that it was out of compassion to me, and the race I represented, but I'm not sure if they saw me as a human being to begin with. It was simply more convenient, even with all the issues."

"Issues?"

"The one percent of the human population that rejected the stable version of the Matrix; the people who had to be terminated, or let go, if they got too troublesome. That was why the One was created." A sad smile appeared on his lips. "One of my better ideas, although I wished the cycle didn't have to end in the decimation of Zion every time. There was no way around it, though, for the Machines, so…"

Steve blinked at him in horror. "You knew? About the genocide in Zion?"

Tony looked at him. His eyes were haunted, deep down, but it was an old wound that Tony had forced to heal, over and over. His mind had probably found a way to rationalize it. "Couldn't actually escape my notice, cooped up as I was in the heart of things."

"What about the Weapon?" Steve asked the burning question. "Is that just another ploy?"

"The ultimate Weapon to defeat the Machines," Tony hummed, craning his neck, looking at the ceiling. He twisted his head from side to side, his neck cracking, and then slid off the table and turned to face Steve. "It exists," he said. "The 'God Switch'. Only…" he halted, raising a hand when Steve opened his mouth, "it's a double-edged sword and you're going to slit your own throat with it."

"But if it's used the right way," Steve insisted, pulse picking up.

"There is no 'right' way, Steven," Tony said sadly. "I don't know who started the rumor about it – although I have a few ideas; that source needs to be quieted and destroyed. Anyway," he added, before Steve could protest, "the thing is, you've been told only a limited version of the truth. The Weapon will indeed finish the war between man and Machine, but not in a way you and everyone else in Zion hope." Tony's eyes held Steve's for a long moment, as if to make sure he was really paying attention. "I am the Weapon," he said simply. "If you destroy me, the Machines will kill every last man, woman and child, and there will be no one left to rebuild Zion. Anyone who rejects the Matrix will doubtlessly be killed before the Machines come up with a more efficient power supply, and after that… the human race will become extinct. The War will be over."

Steve blinked, his heart slowing down to a painful rhythm after the moment of excitement. "Are you sure?"

"I'm very sure," Tony told him. His eyes were wide, honest, and not just a little bit afraid. Not afraid of Steve, obviously, but of the repercussions of someone else finding out. "I'm not going to say I'm the last thread of hope for the human race," he added bitterly. "I'm not saying those things would happen. But I know there would be a backlash. After all, they call me 'Creator'. Do you know what that means?"

"It means someone wants you to die, for their own ends," Steve said. "Someone who's willing to gamble on the existence of the human race. Someone who doesn't care if we all burn." He considered it. "Someone who's not human."

"Which shouldn't be possible, but sons have been known to kill their fathers before, and the Machines possess a lot of bedtime stories from the dark ages," Tony nodded along. "I need to find out who's been plotting my death."

"Couldn't you do that from the Machine City?" Steve asked. He didn't regret finding Tony, not for a second, but he had to ask the obvious questions before someone else came up with them.

"From my fancy golden cage? Maybe," the other man responded and started pacing across the room. His bare feet made a constant scuffing sound on the metallic surface. "The thing is, I don't know how high up it goes. For a fact I can say it isn't the Source, because I have a rather… fond relationship with the AI itself. There is no reason for the Source to eliminate me. That wouldn't advance its being, and it feels attachment to the fact that I helped birth the AI and allow it to grow into what it is now."

"We'll find whoever is responsible," Steve vowed. "After all, this lie about the Weapon is a risk to all humans, and Zion must learn of the truth before the false version gets out of hand."

Tony nodded. "What are you going to tell your crew?"

"The truth," Steve decided. "I just hope they can handle it."

"And if not?"

"Then it's you and me, together."

"Just like the old days," Tony grinned.

* * *

After their little talk was over, Steve took Tony to his cabin. The entire interior of the ship was sad and in need of slight repairs, but it worked and took them further from Machine City with each passing second. Right now, Tony considered distance his ally, because as much as the Machines might be willing to help him find whoever threatened his life, there was also a snake in the Garden…

Steve got him some clothes, each article just as ill-fitting as the pants Bruce had found for him when they had confiscated Tony's own clothing. It wasn't important, however, because fashion no longer existed, clearly, and there were much more important things to focus his mind on.

Tony was relieved Steve had taken it all so well. Clearly certain aspects of the truth bothered the man, but Steve had learned to live with unpleasant facts and they both knew what the endgame was. Tony's death would help no one's cause, but clearly someone had a different idea.

"Do you want something to eat?" Steve asked as they left his quarters.

"I'm fine," Tony responded. "Maybe later." He would have to go easy on his stomach because the fluids the Machines had been feeding him, intravenously, when he needed nourishment… he wasn't certain he wanted to know what was in that stuff. He wasn't certain what was considered 'food' among the humans these days, either, but he supposed he would have to get back into the habit of eating.

They were just crossing the ship and Tony was looking around, further studying the ship's mechanics, when the hovercraft suddenly tilted and slowed down, then set itself down. Steve looked up in alarm and took off in the direction of the cockpit. Other crewmembers appeared in the hallway just seconds later, looking confused.

"There's no way we're back yet," Clint muttered.

"Maybe there's trouble," the young woman in his and Natasha's company guessed.

Tony reached out with his mind, but he couldn't feel Machines in the vicinity. Just the ship. As he stood there, scanning the area as carefully as he could, the attention of the crew landed on him.

"So, you're Tony," the young woman stated, stepping forward. "I'm Darcy. We haven't really met yet."

"You're the Operator," Tony guessed.

"Yup," she grinned, then looked at him more carefully. "How did you know that?"

"Steve told me," Tony lied smoothly. Frankly, he had heard her, briefly, contacting Steve's team while they were in the Matrix. Also, he had found medical data of all the crewmembers on the med bay's computers.

"Right," Clint grunted. "Don't get attached."

"Why?" Darcy asked. "If he's Steve's friend –"

"We don't know what he is," Betty, the doctor, noted as she stepped forward from the shadows.

"A fellow _homo sapiens sapiens_, at your service," Tony shot right back.

"That means some of the things you're claiming to do are impossible," she went on.

"Such as?"

"You stated it was you in the Matrix, in Malibu."

"It was."

"How is that possible when you have no means to connect to the Matrix?" Betty looked triumphant, like she had just revealed his big hoax.

Tony guessed that for her, it seemed impossible. He opened his mouth for a snappy retort, but before he could, Steve and Thor appeared in another hallway, with a third man in tow.

"I'm sorry, Captain, but I couldn't abandon him," Thor was saying, hovering protectively over the tall, slender stranger with matted black hair and reserved eyes. "He's my brother – and he may hold information that is of interest to us."

"You've taken us off-course and did this behind my back," Steve started to argue. "Did you think I wouldn't have at least considered letting him onto my ship?"

"There was no time to wait for your judgment –"

"Why, because I'm not the captain of this ship anymore?"

"You are, and I'm sorry for my infraction. He was, however, aboard the ship with the Cleansers –"

"What?" Steve cut Thor off again and looked at the newcomer with interest. "Who are you?"

"Loki," the man replied swiftly. "My brother promised me sanctuary on your ship."

"I did not make such a promise," Thor argued. "I will protect you, of course, but if Captain Rogers refuses to have you here, we must think of something else."

"Who are Cleansers?" Tony asked, stepping forward. "A cleaning crew?"

"A group of people who first started the rumors about the Weapon," Steve informed him.

Tony's attention zeroed in on Loki and he walked over to him. The man was taller than him but obviously nervous and out of his element. He watched Tony approach, clearly having no idea who he was, but Tony didn't think this was the time for introductions. "Either you give us something useful, or I personally throw you off this ship," he threatened. Both Steve and Thor gave him alarmed looks, as did Loki, but Tony didn't care. "Who gave you the information about the Weapon?"

"I don't know," Loki replied.

"Don't play dumb with me; I can tell you're a smart one. You sit quietly in the shadows and listen to people. Now," Tony snapped his fingers impatiently, "who's feeding you intel? You don't want to make me wait; Patience and I are not on speaking terms."

"As amusing as this is," Natasha spoke up from somewhere behind him, "you're in no position to make threats on this ship, Stark."

"Getting a little impersonal there, but I can live with that," Tony looked at her over his shoulder. "I don't care if I'm hurting your feelings; if this little shit knows what I want to know, he'll tell me, and I'll pat him on the back for a job well done. If not, we have a problem." He looked back at Loki and his green eyes, which were much more wary now.

"If you know something, this is the time to speak up," Steve finally backed him up. "Who was your captain? Which ship were you on?"

"If I tell you, will you allow me to stay on your ship?" Loki asked, clearly wanting reassurances.

"Yes," Steve gave him the answer he wanted. "Now, speak. Why are you here?"

"I was on board _Thanos_," Loki started. Betty let out a small, strangled sound, which gained just about everyone's attention before Loki chose to continue: "The ship's captained by Ross, with three other crewmembers besides myself; two Redpills, one natural-born. I was one of their two Operators. I wasn't privy to all the information, but I overheard a lot of discussions. I don't like being left in the dark," he added with disdain. "Not with something like this. All I know is that they rendezvoused with someone, in the Matrix, who provided them with information about the Weapon, and the means to get closer to it. The information came in pieces, but it seemed valid. By the time your crew became involved," he looked at Steve at this point, "things were getting a bit too serious for my taste."

"Don't like blood on you hands?" Tony challenged him.

Loki gave him an odd look. "If the Weapon could destroy all the Machines –"

"It cannot," Steve cut him off almost angrily. "You've been lied to. Whoever was leading you on has his own reasons, and we must find that person."

Loki blinked and everyone else took a step closer.

"What do you mean, it's a lie?" Bruce was the first to speak up.

"But the Oracle –" Thor started in right behind him.

"Where's all this new information coming from?" Natasha added her own words into the mix.

"What did you and Tony talk about after we left?" Betty asked, more shaken than the others; something about the other ship, _Thanos_, had rattled her.

"I'm going to explain everything," Steve tried to get his voice heard.

The questions kept flying and Tony stepped back from it, a little overwhelmed. Years of seclusion had definitely worked their magic and he would rather be somewhere else. Maybe the engine room –

A whisper at the back of his mind caught his attention. His head jerked around, to follow it. His eyes could see only a blank wall, but outside it, far down the tunnel… "They're here," he whispered. The commotion continued beside him, and he looked at the people, panic seizing his chest in a brief stab before he drove it away. "Hey!" he roared, and silence fell around him. "There are a dozen Sentinels approaching," Tony told them slowly, his heart beating a little faster. "They're on our scent. I suggest we hightail out of here and continue this lovely little chat at a safer location."

Clint and Thor looked at each other and then raced down the hallway. The others took a bit longer before they started moving after them. Around them, the ship came back to life and rose into the air – and a few second later an alarm began to blare.

"That's the proximity alert!" Darcy said needlessly, then glanced back at Tony as they started running towards the cockpit. "How did you know they were coming?!"

"Sixth sense," Tony snapped. "Watch where you're running!"

They made it to the bridge alive, by which time they were speeding through the sewers at top speed, various screens showing dots where the Machines were following them. Clint was cursing beneath his breath and Thor's face was grim. "We're not losing them like this," Clint stated.

"Should we prepare the guns?" Natasha asked, hanging onto Clint's seat for balance.

"There are too many of them for us to just shoot them," Bruce retorted. "We need to find another way."

"Well, if you come up with one, please share!" Clint snapped and pulled hard on the controls. Tony braced his body as the hovercraft turned a tight corner and plunged down with dizzying speed. He didn't like the feeling of not being in control, and at the back of his mind he could still feel the Sentinels, gaining on them.

A few tight corners later they were no closer to losing their pursuers. Tony could do the math and knew they weren't getting away. Even if they launched the EMP which the ship was equipped with, more Sentinels would eventually track them down. Besides, if they planned on heading to Zion, the Machines would cut them off before they got there.

"Stop the ship," Tony ordered.

"Are you insane?" Darcy asked. "Let's shoot at them. It can't hurt."

"Just stop the ship," Tony tried again.

"We can't hide from them," Steve argued. "We have to keep going, and set off the EMP if we're not getting away."

"Think two steps ahead, Cap," Tony leaned towards him, trying to hold onto something as the hovercraft banked hard to avoid collision with a wall. "They won't stop coming after us. If we go to Zion, they'll attack."

"What are you suggesting?" Steve asked, frown creasing his brow.

"I'll… think of something," Tony offered.

"No," Steve shook his head. "I'm not letting you off this ship! It defeats the whole purpose of us running away! They'll take you back and blow us up with the ship."

"Are they after him?" Loki asked from the side. He really blended in with the shadows quite nicely, now that Tony noticed him again.

"Figures," Clint growled from the controls. "We set down there. Prep the EMP, Darcy. We'll roast these suckers and keep on running."

The ship shivered as it was brought to a halt, a few wall panels probably torn off in the process. All systems were shut down to prevent damage to them, and Tony could almost hear the Sentinels flying towards them. As Machines, they didn't think of victory; they had a mission, an objective, and they were about to reach it. There was no affection, no satisfaction – and when they finally reached the ship, metallic tentacles scraping against the hull, Darcy popped open the cover protecting the EMP switch and took one last look at Steve before turning the dial.

Tony closed his eyes as he felt the blast go through his body and hit the Sentinels outside. He groaned, unable to keep it in, breathing through it as he felt circuits fry and the slight connection being severed. Death lay on the outside, and it left a weird taste in his mouth.

He opened his eyes slowly, feeling someone else's eyes on him.

"Did you feel it?" Steve asked, worried. "I didn't think it would impact you –"

"It doesn't, not really," Tony said, feeling a little breathless. "I felt _them_ go down, though."

"Alright, let's get out of here," Clint declared as he and Darcy brought the ship back online. As the pads came back to life and lifted them off the ground, dead Sentinels fell off the ship and clattered to the bottom of the tunnel. Tony tried not to wince, because there was no reason to – but he hoped this could have been avoided.

"We're back in business," Darcy declared as they continued at a slightly slower pace, moving away from the small site of carnage. "So, are we heading back to Zion?" she asked, and Tony glanced at Steve to hear his response. Tony didn't need to go to Zion, and that might create a new set of problems for him – especially if the truth of his past came out. At this time, he was at Steve's mercy, and it was clear the other man knew that as well.

Before Steve could respond, the siren began to wail again, and Clint smacked the console in front of him. "No, no, _no_! Goddammit, you've got to be kidding me!"

"How many?" Steve asked, voice catching a little.

"At least another two dozen, coming in fast," Darcy replied, staring at the holographic screen showing another group of Sentinels. She looked at Steve for guidance. "The EMP won't launch again so soon."

"We can't outrun them," Thor added.

Tony looked at them all and decided he was done asking nicely. He laid out his hands against the ceiling, to hold himself steady, then closed his eyes and connected his mind to the operating system of _The Avenger_. Without a hitch, the engines began powering down, the controls working under his will.

"What the hell?" Clint swore. "Captain, we have a problem. Something wrong with the ship. Nothing's responding and we're slowing down fast."

"Can you do something?" Steve asked, then stopped, and Tony could feel his hulking presence next to him. "Tony, stop," he ordered sharply, and one big hand settled on Tony's shoulder, shaking him a little. "I know what you're doing. Stop it."

Tony opened his eyes, just as the ship settled down on the tunnel floor. "We're not outrunning them."

"We'll think of something. We have weapons," Steve said earnestly.

"I won't let them blow up your ship," Tony promised, then lowered his hands and turned, walking off the bridge and to the rear of the ship, commanding the ramp to lower itself.

"Tony!" Steve called after him, running down the hallway. "I won't let them take you back."

He sounded so desperate Tony had to take a look at him, to give him some semblance of reassurance. "I'm not planning on going back," he promised, then whipped his head around as two Sentinels swam into the field of his vision, hovering in the air, red eyes fixated on him.

Tony looked at them, allowing his mind to connect with theirs. "Go back to the City. I'm not coming back."

There were no audible protestations, but he winced and absorbed their refusal to comply with his request.

"Turn back," Tony ordered again.

Behind him, at the top of the ramp, more of Steve's crew was gathering. Through the eyes of the Sentinels, Tony saw them holding guns, ready to defend themselves and their ship. Tony wondered if any of them would protect him, save for Steve.

"Is he going to talk them to death?" Clint was asking.

"Tony…" Steve called out again, uncertainly. Tony heard him walking down the ramp, but no other footsteps followed.

The two Sentinels shifted and more of them drifted into view, forming a semi-circle in front of Tony. They were telling him to come home.

Tony knew he would be able to convince them to leave this ship and the humans alone, to dismiss the whole escape affair. It wasn't in the Machines' interest to linger on something like that if a far more important objective was accomplished. Sadly, Tony couldn't go back yet – nor would he, if he could help it. He had sat in his prison long enough. The Machines might call it home, and even make it more bearable for him, but Tony had never handled captivity well in any of its forms.

"Go back," Tony offered the Machines, one last time. "I don't want to hurt you."

The Sentinels didn't comply, instead preparing for an attack: for them, _The Avenger_ was a threat and the reason for Tony's escape. If the humans and their ship were eliminated, they could take the Creator home.

Tony carefully let out the air from his lungs. Then, with absolute precision and concentration, he connected to the Machines with the Extremis, and with the fall of his eyelids and the rise of his hand, they blew up from the inside; there was no self-destruct sequence, but over-heating their power core sent their bodies into an uncontrolled chain-reaction. He saw the flashes of blue and orange even behind his eyelids and winced as the Sentinels fell down like dead flies, one of them almost crashing on top of his toes.

Slowly, he breathed in again, opened his eyes and looked mournfully at the dead Sentinels. "Next time, you should listen to what I say," he murmured, then looked up: one last Sentinel was floating above _The Avenger_, looking at them. A smart one, or a dumb one, depending on what it did next. Tony looked at it, then motioned with his hand, guessing he had to send a message 'home' or this would escalate like napalm on fire.

The lone Sentinel slowly drifted over, assessing the situation. "Hey, dummy," Tony called out to it, "come here. Let's have a chat, shall we?" He extended his hand, and slowly the Sentinel moved close enough for their bodies to connect. Tony was not a stranger to metallic surfaces, having encased himself in one for years. It wasn't the first time he had touched a Machine, either, but the contact helped him make a connection, to get his message across flawlessly: _I don't want to come back, there's something I need to do; stop coming after me; there's no reason for us to fight over this_.

The Sentinel's tentacles twitched, a few of them moving forward, caressing along his body, touching lightly. Asking him to reconsider.

Tony pushed with his hand, lightly, and took a step back. "Go back to the Source. Deliver the message. Be a good boy and don't make a mess of this."

The Sentinel hesitated for a micro-second before shooting up and back into the darkness of the tunnel.

"How did he do that?" he heard Jane ask behind him and turned to look at the stunned, scared faces of Steve's crew. Even Steve looked a little uncertain.

"Isn't that what Neo used to be capable of – destroying Machines with his mind?" Darcy piped up. "Are you the One?" she asked next. "I mean, a new One? To make sure the Truce doesn't end?"

Tony chuckled. "No. But, if it's any consolation… all the previous Ones were related to me. In spirit, anyway." He shrugged.

"How?" Bruce asked.

"Let's just say that what made them so special were character traits subtly inherited from me. And a fraction of Extremis in their system. In them manifested my unwillingness to submit to authority, and a rising need to change things for the better." It had been a mixture of many things, but Tony knew that those little nuances – the freedom of choice – wouldn't have been there nearly as fast if it weren't for him. The Oracle had completed his objective, perfecting it, but Tony had made sure the cycles would take place so that the Machines didn't need to come up with a more permanent solution for the rebellious humans in their system.

Survival with a price tag of numerous lives…

Tony still liked to think he had chosen the lesser evil when not given much room to negotiate. The agonizingly slow influencing of a large system hadn't been his way of doing things, either, but it had been his only option – and now he had to seize whatever freedom he had and make the best of it.

"I think we need to talk," Bruce finally decided, on behalf of the rest of the crew. "I assume we all agree that it's high time we learn who Tony Stark really is."

Steve nodded grimly, taking a look at Tony and then led them back inside the ship. Tony told himself, firmly, that the ramp closing behind them wasn't another prison door thrown shut and locked from the outside.

* * *

The mess felt stifling and small, although there were only two people in addition to the usual numbers of the crew. _The Avenger_ was parked in the safest place they had been able to find on short notice – even when Tony had reassured them the Machines wouldn't come back. No one put too much stock in his reassurances at this moment, although they couldn't deny what they had witnessed.

Tony Stark was a collection of contradictories, as far as Bruce could see; he spoke while not saying much at all; he seemed harmless when clearly that was not the case; for someone who had spent the entirety of the Machine War imprisoned, he knew too much about the current technology.

"Alright," Clint started, fingers drumming a nervous beat against his biceps where his arms were crossed over his chest, "there better be some explanations forthcoming."

Steve looked at Tony, and some wordless communication seemed to pass between them. Tony was the one to look at all of them, while Steve resolutely stared at his hands on the table. "What do you want to know?" Tony asked.

"How about the truth?" Natasha suggested immediately.

"That's… a broad subject. We'll be here a really long time if I have to –"

"If you managed to destroy two dozen Sentinels with a wave of your hand, using the Extremis in your body, why didn't you escape the Machine City earlier?" Bruce asked before anyone else had a chance. "Why did the Oracle lead us to you in the Matrix – and why did you upload a map into Steve's brain that led us to you, under the pretense that we were looking for the Weapon? Why did you come with us?"

"Okay, that's a lot of questions," Tony leaned back a little, and Steve looked up in alarm, giving Bruce a quick look. Tony, however, didn't stay silent for long: "It's time you knew the truth. Where we go from here… I know Steve well enough to guess that he'll give you a choice, soon, on whether you want to follow him or not. You deserve to have a few facts before we get there. However, they might soon start sounding like a history lesson, so bear with me:

"Steve's probably told you that in the beginning, there was one AI that humanity created. Of course, I had already built one years prior, so I got to… advise on the new project. As a result, over the years, the new AI and the Machines that later spawned from it regarded me as someone who was part of their creation. With the Extremis, I could communicate with them on a level a normal human couldn't dream of. I understood the Machines.

"Problem was, when shit started to hit the fan, I was busy saving the world from other threats and keeping peace elsewhere. I don't… know what I would have done, if anything, because the leaders of the world seemed content to shoot themselves in the foot and I was done protecting them from their own inanity.

"The morning before the bombs dropped on Zero One, the AI requested my presence. The rest of humanity was banned from the City and preparing for the extinction of the AI, yet I was invited, and I wasn't going to turn down the offer. When I got there… Instead of asking for advice, or making threats, the AI had only one goal in mind."

Tony fell silent, eyes distant.

"What did it want?" Jane asked, leaning forward, along with many of the others. They had that same, transfixed look on their faces as when they listened to their captain's tales. Bruce hoped they knew this was different.

"Preservation," Tony continued slowly. "For itself – and me." The brown eyes were hard when they rose to meet Bruce's gaze. "For all the power I can wield, I couldn't fight the entirety of the AI. Not without a warning. For years to come, they kept me in stasis. My mind would be connected to them while my body was asleep. By the time I actually woke up, the world had changed and humanity was in chains. There was nothing left for me but to sleep and do all that I could to save what was left of my race."

Bruce knew they were getting close to something else Tony wanted to tell them, but he wondered whether they should ask the right question to access that information – like one had to do with programs within the Matrix.

"Why would they go through all that trouble just for you?" Clint asked.

"Didn't you listen?" Thor spoke up. "He helped to create the Machines. They were in his debt."

"They're _machines_," Clint snorted. "I'm not sure they even know the meaning of the word."

"You would be surprised," Tony mused. "A machine is as dull as you make it." Beside him, a brief smile caressed Steve's lips – a memory, perhaps. "In order to save what was left of humanity, I helped the Machines construct the Matrix and mold it into something a human mind would accept."

Silence met that statement, and Steve looked at them, as if concerned. "What was the alternative?" the captain challenged his crew. "To let the surviving millions die, our race brought to extinction?"

"What about the Weapon?" Loki asked from beside his brother. He had remained quiet until now, a shadow, clearly uncertain whether all the recent events affected his safety aboard their ship.

Tony snorted. "Now we get to the good part, I guess. There is no Weapon. Whoever came up with that little tale is having you run in circles with the hope of salvation dangling in front of your faces."

"Or, there is a Weapon but you were sent to tell us otherwise," Betty shot back. "You were with the Machines for a long time. Maybe you were with them before the War, too."

Tony gave her a glacial look, and Bruce sat up straighter, although he was uncertain whom he wanted to believe more.

"You want to know about the Weapon?" Tony asked.

"The one that doesn't exist, according to you," Bruce cut in, to stop Betty from making a reply.

"What your source," Tony cast a look at Loki, "is having you look for, you have already found. I am the Weapon, in every sense there is. If you kill me – which would be the obvious move on your part – the Truce and War will both end when the Machines come to Zion and burn it to the ground, with every man, woman and child inside it. There will be no more Redpills; those who refuse the Matrix will be terminated."

"How do you know that?" Bruce asked. "Unless that's the plan. Are you here to issue a threat?"

"Gods, no," Tony let out a quick chuckle. "I'm here because after years of waiting, something happened in the Matrix that I hadn't expected, but still kept waiting for: Steve entered it. That was a signal to me that my wait was over – that I could lay out my plans and think of finally leaving Zero One. Escaping, if that's how you want to put it. Steve's the only person crazy and talented enough to get to me – and loyal enough to not give up as long as he has a breath left in him. Also, now that I'm out, I'm going to find whoever started the rumor about the Weapon and destroy him, before someone gets it into their head to try and kill me in the hopes that it would somehow short-circuit every Machine on this planet."

Murmured discussion started all over the mess, between different groups of people. It was hard to tell one apart from another, and Bruce abandoned it in favor of looking at Steve, who appeared nervous in his seat – yet resolute. There was no doubt about what he was going to do from here on out.

Bruce explored his own feelings, beliefs and logic. There was still a chance that Tony was, indeed, working for the Machines, and was looking for the source of the information to quiet it in order to protect the real Weapon. However, if his story was true… "Could you destroy the Machines?" Bruce asked. "If given a chance? You said you couldn't fight them all at once, without a warning, but if you had time and support…"

Tony's expression turned a little troubled. "Maybe. Possibly. Look, here's how it is: the AI has evolved. Every Machine out here, from bug to Sentinel, is its own self. If given enough time, I could probably bring them all down, but that's not what I am going to do. It's not a war I'm going to fight."

"So you are on their side?" Loki asked, and Betty nodded with approval. The rest of the crew was starting to look a little uneasy.

"I'm not picking a side," Tony replied, a bit heatedly. "Man created machine. Man also created the AI. Then man decided to get rid of the AI, for his own selfish reasons. I have a vision, where both sides continue to live in harmony, improving each other. A symbiosis. I've lived in one for most of my life. At this point there is no reason to try to eradicate the Machines, because they are not the threat."

"That's one fucked up way to look at it," Natasha noted. "Did you miss the part where millions got hooked up to pods, living false lives, their bodies food for the Machines?"

"Would you prefer them to live under the dark skies the humans poisoned, going insane from the lack of light – or hiding below ground as you are now? Or alternatively, extinction?" Tony challenged. "You were born in the Matrix. Tell me, Natasha, was your life there unbearable? To your mind, it was as real as this life here. Maybe it wasn't freedom, but it was a damn good simulation of a world that used to be – a world that was better than what the actual human race left behind."

"Okay," Steve cleared his throat, "I think we've… come to a point where we need to decide what we are going to do."

"What is your plan?" Bruce asked.

"To do anything I can to find the source of the Weapon rumor," Steve replied. "To help Tony."

"We should take him to Zion," Darcy offered. "The Council can decide whether we help him…"

"Or incarcerate him," Betty threw in an alternative.

"They will kill him," Clint pointed out.

"He may be our only chance to maintain the Truce," Loki added.

"A hostage, to bring the Machines under our heel," Natasha suggested. "Although, if you're not as precious to them as you think…"

"They did come after him," Clint reminded her. "In force."

"What do you want to do?" Natasha snapped back. "Help them?"

"Maybe," Clint shrugged, looking at Steve. "I just saw him blow up a bunch of Sentinels. We saw him in the Matrix but he wasn't jacked in. If he's the real deal, then maybe we should jump into his boat."

"Tell me," Bruce spoke up, looking at Tony, "if I hadn't installed a data port into Steve's brain, or if he had died or never been able to enter the Matrix, what would you have done for the rest of your life?"

A cold smile met his words. "An excellent question. I don't know. Dreamt, possibly. There would have been little for me to live for, other than trying to save the people from within enemy lines, if that's what you want to call it. They might have let me walk free within the City, had I asked, but it never crossed my mind in all that time."

"You would have fought, in the end," Steve argued from beside him. "I know you, Tony. When it became necessary, you would have fought."

"An enemy, yes," Tony said quietly. "I don't know who the enemy is anymore. I'm afraid to look into a mirror in case I see one staring back at me."

That was perhaps the most human thing Tony had said all day, and Bruce sighed, making up his mind. "I'm with you two. We need to find whoever is trying to trick us into destroying Zion."

"Should we head back and alert the city?" Thor asked.

"They would want to question Tony, and we can't afford to lose time – or him," Steve decided. He looked around the room. "If any of you have doubts, speak up now. You don't need to tell me your reasons if you want to leave; I can ask none of you to follow if you're not absolutely certain. There might be no turning back after this, and we don't know what looms ahead of us."

"I'm not sure how willing the Cleansers are to believe this version of the truth," Loki added.

Clint looked up and down the mess hall, then at his two lovers. "What do you think?"

"It's a bad idea," Natasha murmured.

"But the right thing to do, if what they're saying is right," Darcy added.

"So, we're in?" Clint guessed.

"Yeah," Natasha sighed.

"Aye, I'm with you as well," Thor nodded, "as is my brother," he promised on Loki's behalf.

"Me, too," Jane said, then glanced at Thor to stop the argument forming on his lips. "No, you can't stop me from being a part of this crew."

"Betty?" Steve asked, looking at her, and Bruce did as well.

"If you don't believe in this –" Bruce started.

"I can't just leave you in the middle of this," Betty argued, although she wasn't happy, or convinced. "I'm in." She looked at Tony and Steve. "What's the next step?"

"Intel," Tony said immediately. "We need to find the source of the information." He glanced at Loki. "Since you couldn't provide us with specifics, we'll have to go hunting."

"Hunting for what?" Clint asked.

"I'm not sure yet, but I'll know it when I see it," Tony offered.

"We're set to go, then," Steve nodded. "Take us to broadcasting depth," he told Clint and Thor, who got up and headed towards the bridge. Everyone else started moving out as well, possibly to check on any damages their escape from the Sentinels may have caused.

In the end, it was Bruce and Betty in the mess, and he looked at her seriously. "If you're not sure," Bruce started.

"I already said I'm in," she snapped.

"If you're doing this for me, it's not enough," he argued. "And –"

"My father is the captain of _Thanos_. He's… he might be leading the Cleansers," Betty finished, voice lowered. "If he's really involved, I need to be here. I need to know. I need to try and convince him of the truth, before this escalates."

Bruce nodded slowly. He could hardly keep her from doing that. She was on this ship because of him, and he owed it to Betty to help her get to her father and try to save him, despite the danger he and his crew posed to the Truce.

_to be continued…_


	8. Family Reunions

**Chapter 8: Family Reunions**

* * *

They were all set to go: _The Avenger_ was safely at broadcasting depth, there had been no Machine activity, and Darcy had laid out the entry point for them. Loki had first tried to stay out of the way, in the shadows, but eventually he had migrated over to the Operator's console.

Loki wasn't an idiot; not when he had realized that the goal of the Cleansers was perhaps a tad too radical for him, nor when he contacted his brother, risking his own life in doing so. Their family had been big believers in faith, and Loki supposed that finding himself and Thor on opposite sides was some kind of omen.

He had refused that omen by seeking refuge here, on _The Avenger_, under the command of Captain Rogers who, strangely enough, seemed to fit every unbelievable rumor ever spoken of him. Anyone would have a hard time accepting the things they had heard, about the beginning of the Machine War – not to mention Tony's involvement in it all – but Loki had witnessed the Sentinels being destroyed and at that moment it felt like a religious revelation had hit him square in the face.

These two men, who now stood on the bridge gazing into the dark tunnel before them, looked every bit like the heroes they had perhaps once been a hundred years ago; the only things missing were a suit of armor and a shield. All of this didn't appear to sway them much, and they remained unafraid of the dangers that lay before them.

"I haven't seen Cap this amped up before," Darcy whispered to him, almost like a conspirator. "Well, almost like this, but not quite." She seemed to consider this for a moment. "What do you think it all means? I mean, someone's obviously trying to restart the war and possibly destroy Zion for good. There are not many who would benefit from that."

"Especially if killing humans spreads further than Zion," Loki agreed. Tony had implied that the killing might not stop at the last city of mankind. "The list of suspects has got to be short," he added.

"You think Tony knows who's responsible?" Darcy looked at him, eager to hear more.

"Possibly," Loki mused. "Why he isn't telling us, however…"

"He's playing his cards close to his chest ," another female voice joined them and Natasha appeared out of nowhere. Darcy gave her a radiant smile, as if she was used to it, whereas Loki felt himself grow tense. "I don't trust him, but we have to trust Steve."

"I don't think Steve would fuck us over, even for his old friend," Darcy pondered, her eyes narrowing in thought. She was either a very transparent person, or liked to pretend that she was.

"So, how are you adjusting?" Natasha asked Loki in turn. It was clear he was being evaluated.

"I would prefer not sharing such a confined space with my step-brother," Loki noted.

"Don't you like Thor?" Darcy frowned. "He loves you, I can tell. He took a risk bringing you in, considering whom you were flying with before."

"That's another thing," Loki admitted. "I like not being surrounded by psychopaths." Both Darcy and Natasha gave him inquiring looks at that. Loki shrugged. "I liked the basic idea that was promised to me: emancipate the humans from the oppression and slavery of Machines. Give us back our world and freedom. However, when human life started to become an acceptable loss…"

"Are they planning to kill us?" Natasha asked, her voice calm, not betraying any concern or fear she might feel.

"I don't know, but they knew your captain was meeting with the Oracle, and that he was the only one who could access the Weapon. After that, all bets were off."

"I keep wondering who would know all that stuff," Tony Stark's voice burst their little bubble. He moved over, eyes sharp, and Steve followed close by, an attentive look on his face; he looked like a man who didn't miss much. "You say they gained most of their information during their visits to the Matrix?"

"All of it, as far as I could tell. Whether it was delivered to them by a Redpill, a program, or something else, I don't know," Loki replied. "However, the last time they met face to face with someone, so I think there has to be a person of some kind involved, instead of a message left for retrieval."

Tony nodded. "Well, that confirms it: we need to go into the Matrix for answers."

"Isn't that what we were planning on doing, anyway?" Darcy noted.

"Yes, but in case that was unclear to anyone," Tony finished and turned around again. "Are you ready to go?"

"How does this work for you, exactly?" Darcy asked. "You don't have a data port, but you're going with the others."

"I close my eyes and I'm there," Tony replied nonchalantly, then flashed them a brilliant grin. "Magic, baby."

"Extremis," Bruce corrected as he entered the bridge. "I look forward to seeing that. Especially the things you can do."

Tony's expression shifted slightly at that. "You figured it out just now?"

"I had my suspicions," Bruce gave him a small, hollow smile. "In here, Machines are… well, at a disadvantage against you. I've seen you manipulate our ship, and considering that you can just enter the Matrix at will… The Matrix is one large myriad of programs, and you control programs with your mind."

"Bingo," Tony snapped his fingers. "I knew you were the smart one around here. You'll see, in due time, if necessary; I'll try not to show off, because I leave a different pattern in the Matrix, and the Machines can track me down, eventually, by following the cookie crumbs. I can go undetected by Bluepills, most Redpills, and even the majority of programs. Exiles are a bit trickier, and the more powerful programs. They keep… sensing I'm there. Rest of the time, though, I'm a ghost in the machine, if you like that reference."

Bruce nodded, as if he understood.

Loki, on the other hand, wasn't sure he wanted to understand: the things Tony could do were unnatural. There was no doubt that he was the Weapon, and could bring about the extinction of the human race – if he wanted to. What Tony wanted was hard to grasp, seeing as he seemed to be in a constant struggle with his own views and alliances.

"We're ready," Thor declared as he walked over. Briefly, his blue eyes searched out Loki's, and a warm, happy smile appeared on his lips; he was enjoying it that they were so close, on the same ship, sharing a mission. Loki supposed worse things could have happened, and it may have been a further incentive to come here, knowing that Thor would be on _The Avenger_ if they were attacked.

Despite all their past disagreements, they were family.

"I doubt we need the whole team on this," Steve started.

"We're not missing out on this," Clint declared as he came in.

"You heard the man," Jane agreed, half a step behind him. Thor gave her a mildly worried look, but she could not be swayed. "Do we have a plan?"

Steve looked at Tony, as if expecting an answer, but none came.

"Guess we'll figure it out as we go," Natasha said, sounding a little unhappy.

"Tony likes to improvise," Steve noted, a bit sheepishly, as if it were his fault.

"You're one to talk, Captain," Tony teased right back at him. "I've seen you pull stunts like no one else."

Steve gave him an awkward shrug and then turned towards the semi-circle of chairs. "Let's get this show on the road, people. Everyone who's coming, get in the chairs. Darcy, prep our entry."

"Yes, sir," Darcy gave him a mock salute and every Redpill in the crew moved to the chairs while Thor moved from one to the next, connecting the data probes. Loki turned to follow Darcy's proceedings, her movements familiar, and the coded appearance of the Matrix calmed him a little.

On the other side of the room, Tony selected a vacant chair, stretching his neck before settling down and closing his eyes.

One by one, the crewmembers entered the Matrix. Loki could see their avatars embed themselves into the code and waited for something to happen when Tony joined them. There was nothing. "Kind of disappointing," he mused.

Darcy, clearly knowing what he was waiting for, nodded.

"You kids play nice," Tony's voice suddenly reached their ears. His eyes were open, and he gave them both a wink before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes again. Almost immediately the entire code on the screen seemed to ripple, once, before settling down again, no trace left that there had ever been a disturbance.

Thor moved around Tony's chair and gently poked him in the arm, getting no response.

"Huh," Darcy hummed.

"Now what?" Thor mused.

"We wait," Loki replied, settling down to do just that beside Darcy, who didn't seem to mind the company. Together, they watched their team move and waited for any requests – or a call to get them out.

* * *

His entire team was around him, save for Tony. Steve looked around, alarmed, expecting him to appear at any second, unexpectedly, missing one moment and then there the next.

"Did something go wrong?" Clint asked, looking around as well. He had his bow in hand, fingers twitching restlessly.

And then, with a whisper of wind inside the warehouse they had chosen as their arrival spot, Tony was suddenly there, the air around him positively shimmering as if it were trying to adjust to his sudden presence. It was beautiful, but brief, and Tony squared his shoulders and looked around. He was clothed differently from the real world, as could be expected. It was familiar to Steve – something Tony had often worn around his workshop: worn jeans, t-shirt on top of a long sleeved shirt, the sleeves rolled up and showing his strong, tanned forearms. His facial hair was just as immaculate as ever, and his eyes shone sharply.

Tony's eyes moved down to Steve's arm and the shield he was holding. A small smile played on his lips. "Captain," he inclined his head and then turned towards a door that stood on the far side of the open space, starting towards it. Steve and the others followed him into the bright afternoon sun, rounding the building to get to a slightly more crowded street. They were on the quieter side of New York City, though, and went mostly undetected by strangers.

"So, any ideas on where we'll start our search?" Clint asked after a bit. He was keeping an eye out, as usual. It was clear he was feeling tense, though, and they all knew why: they had crossed a line in releasing Tony. It was entirely possible Agents were out looking for them.

"I have a feeling something will turn up if we just wait long enough," Tony mused.

Steve pursed his lips. "That's your plan?"

"It's a good plan, Steve. Trust me," Tony attempted to reassure him, unsuccessfully.

"You're still the captain, Steve," Natasha piped up, her patience wearing thin. "You call the shots."

Steve knew that, but at the same time, Tony always had resources that no one else possessed, even in the past. Now, it was all increased exponentially, and Steve wondered if Tony actually had a plan but thought it better to not include the others in it. Why that was – and why Steve was kept in the dark along with everyone else – he had yet to figure out.

They continued on less busy streets, not keeping out of sight but clearly avoiding crowds. Steve had strapped his shield to his back, where it would probably draw less attention than on his arm. Clint and Natasha kept an eye out, out of habit, sometimes conversing in low voices; clearly they distrusted Tony, but as long as Steve was following his friend, his crew would tag along.

Their search for clues seemed aimless until they walked by an old, abandoned playground. A lone girl was swinging in a creaking, rusty swing, and Steve thought it strange that she would be all alone in this kind of neighborhood. As they went by, she looked up and touched her feet to the ground, halting the swinging motion. As the swing stopped, she got to her feet and started running over to them.

Tony stopped, as did the rest of them.

"Bluepill?" Clint asked, walking back to them.

"No," Tony said. "A program. An Exile." He cocked his head and the girl stopped in front of them. A twisted, rusty iron fence stood between them, and she leaned against it casually, looking at all of them. She looked like she was ten years old or less, of Indian descent, and the dark brown eyes revealed very little.

"Hello," Jane offered. "Can we help you?"

She shook her head. "No, but I can help you," she said instead. Her eyes fell on Steve. "The Oracle wishes to meet you. I will take you to her."

Steve blinked at her in shock, then looked at Tony. It was hard to tell what he was thinking – whether this was something he had been expecting, and whether it was good or bad.

"You should bring your friends this time," the girl added, then started walking to the left. Soon she came to a gate that led out of the playground, hanging half off its hinges, and she continued down the sidewalk they were standing on.

"What do you think?" Steve asked Tony.

"It's the Oracle," Tony noted, raising one eyebrow at him. "It would be impolite to say no. Besides, she wouldn't bother to invite you if she already knew you would say 'no'."

"He has a point," Bruce agreed.

Steve nodded and set off after the little girl, who was walking slowly enough for them to follow. "What is your name?" Steve asked once they caught up with her.

"Sati," she chirped. "I know you are Captain America."

"Not anymore," Steve replied with a sad smile.

"Some things cease to exist, while others do not. The Oracle says you will always be Captain America." Tony snorted at Steve's side, and Sati looked at him. "Is she wrong?"

"Is the Oracle ever wrong?" Tony challenged her.

"Not that I know of," she shrugged her small shoulders.

"There you have it," Tony mused, but it was clear he wasn't speaking his mind. Not that he often did; he talked a lot, but Steve had learned that the things he didn't say were often of most value.

They entered a run-down suburban area, with several blocks filled with apartment buildings that looked half-abandoned by time and people. Broken windows could be found at random in the walls; curtains tightly shut, faded by the sun; not a single person could be seen anywhere, but it was clear people were still living there.

"Should we leave someone to guard outside?" Clint asked, looking up and down the small yard they were crossing, surrounded by three buildings.

"She told Steve to bring his friends; she didn't exclude anyone," Bruce mused.

"We'll be safe," Tony spoke up. "Lead the way, little lady," he told Sati, who opened one door with its paint flaking off, leading them into a dim hallway. None of the lamps were on, some of them missing entirely, and the stairwell smelled a little musty. Still, there were items here and there, bicycles and children's toys, that suggested the building wasn't abandoned. "Charming," Tony decided, until they climbed to the fifth floor and Sati knocked on a door.

It was opened by a man they already knew, Seraph. He had the familiar round sunglasses on his face, and he bowed his head slightly and let them enter without a word. Clint and Natasha brought up the rear, trusting Steve to deflect any danger that might come at them from the front.

The inside of the apartment was tastefully decorated, with little knick-knacks all over the place. The smell of freshly baked cookies hung in the air, much like last time, and Steve allowed his shoulders to relax a little. Tony walked deeper into the apartment, touching things, picking them up for observation at random before moving on.

"Captain," a familiar voice called out, and the Oracle appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, an apron around her waist. "You came just in time for milk and cookies. Sati, please be a darling and set the table."

The girl smiled and rushed past her into the kitchen. Soon the sound of plates clinking could be heard, then glasses.

Behind Steve, his team was looking around the hallway they stood in. Just like how Steve hadn't known what to expect the first time they met, his team had to take in the little details and believe this was what the Oracle liked to surround herself with. "You wanted to meet us," Steve started, feeling like he should move this thing along; it was possible they were short on time.

The Oracle nodded her head. "I set you down a treacherous path, but you have triumphed. Just as I believed you would."

"But the Weapon…" Steve started.

"A metaphor," she smiled. "Yet, a Weapon of a most terrible nature, as you must have come to know." And just like that, she turned around, to look at Tony who had settled in what looked like the living room, staring out the window. The Oracle's expression changed, from motherly to something somber and incredibly sad. At the same time, it was as if she were being reunited with some long-lost friend.

Steve watched as the Oracle walked into the living room then laid a hand on Tony's left shoulder. As if awakened from a reverie, Tony looked at her, and in that moment Steve was certain the two of them had met before.

"You have a new shell," Tony commented. "Couldn't find a younger one?"

"I am fond of this form, and you know it," the Oracle replied patiently, then leaned up and placed a lingering kiss on Tony's cheek. "It is good to see you freed from your prison."

"Not a prison," Tony started.

"Call it what you will," the Oracle said a bit bitingly. "We all know why you weren't supposed to leave Malibu."

"And yet you sent these people after me," Tony mused, a quirky smile on his lips. The Oracle's hand was still on his shoulder.

"It was your plan," the Oracle noted. "I merely played my part in it.

"You could have just told Steve the truth," Tony argued.

"He needed to understand the severity of the situation. I am not certain he comprehends even now."

"He doesn't need to," Tony lowered his voice, looking out the window again. "He's a hero. Was a hero, before you were ever created; he sees danger and he'll fight to protect those who need protecting."

"And if you are the threat?" she asked.

"Then we might have a problem, because I'm not planning on going down easily," Tony noted ruefully and turned towards her, resting his hands on her hips. "I need to know what's going to happen."

The Oracle looked sad, suddenly. "You know I cannot see your path – nor can I see the path of those entwined around you," she added, giving Steve a meaningful look. "Your power moves beyond mine, Creator," she noted then, looking back at Tony. Her hands rose up, to frame his face. "That is how it has always been."

"Then tell me this," Tony went on. "Who's stirring up trouble? Someone let slip my existence – someone who knew Steve would be set down the path to find me, if he ever entered the Matrix. That he could find me – and would come after me."

The Oracle pursed her lips. "No one benefits from what you think will come next."

"No," Tony agreed and stepped back from her, pacing a little. "Zion would be crushed, if my life were to be threatened. No one can force my hand against the Machines, either."

"Oracle! The table's ready!" Sati called from the kitchen.

All at once, the old woman's face lit up, a heavy contrast to the seriousness it had adopted as she spoke with Tony. "Very good. Let us all go and sit down. One can think much better with a treat in their hand."

The Oracle led the way to the kitchen. Someone had crammed eight chairs around the table that would usually hold four. The Oracle and Sati sat down, and Steve motioned for his team to follow their example. Tony followed them in, still appearing restless, but the Oracle patted a chair next to hers and he finally sat down, scowling at the cookies.

"Eat," the Oracle ordered.

"You know it does nothing for me; I can see the coding embedded in the cookies," Tony complained, but still took one from the tray and examined it.

"You can see the code in everything that constructs the Matrix," the Oracle said in a way that sounded like a reminder. "You learned not to look, for the sake of your sanity, but now you've opened your eyes again."

"I need to find whoever dealt information to the Cleansers," Tony mused, still holding the cookie in front of his face. "They fed lies to the humans, but that doesn't mean they're not in on the truth; even if their desire is to cause an inconvenience instead of an all-out war… I need to find them." His eyes narrowed at the chocolate-chip cookie, as if he were arguing with it somehow.

The others had picked up a cookie each, and although Sati was already eating hers, everyone else seemed to hesitate. Steve finally took a bite out of his, to show the others there was no harm in it, regardless of Tony's complaints. It tasted just as good as last time, although it made him wonder how easily his brain was fooled while Tony could see the very essence of everything around them. Did he even see the room they were in, the little items on the shelves and walls? Was that why he had taken such a shine to going through it all, engrossed with the details?

"Do you think it could be him?" Tony asked after a bit. Whom he meant was beyond Steve, so he continued to listen as he ate his cookie and then reached out for his glass of milk. Around him, his crew was listening just as intently. Natasha still hadn't touched her cookie.

"The Architect?" the Oracle frowned. "No. We all may have our differences, but he would never threaten your safety so openly."

Tony nodded his head, sharply, then took a small bite of his cookie, his brow creasing. Clearly it wasn't what he had expected, so he sat it down on his plate and leaned back on his chair. "If not him…"

"Whoever it is, they have come this far," the Oracle mused. "They will show themselves to you. Or –"

"I'm not going back to the Source," Tony cut her off, looking at her. For a moment it seemed almost as if the room shivered around them, the plates vibrating on the table. Bruce gave the table a curious look, while Clint and Natasha inched their hands towards their weapons.

"If that is your choice, it should be honored," the Oracle stated diplomatically.

"Bullshit," Tony snapped. "The first chance they get, they'll drag me back there. We'll have a long, unpleasant discussion about why I escaped, and they'll hook me back up to run maintenance."

"Can't you escape again?" Sati asked from across the table.

Tony looked at her, eyes sharp. "If I wanted it bad enough? Maybe. Or, maybe they would snatch that desire from my brain and lock me so deep within my own body that I could never crawl out again."

"I thought you had power over the Machines," Clint noted. "They not your best friends after all?"

"Power is deceptive," Tony told him, and as if to demonstrate, he raised his hand, palm up, over the table. An instant later, the plates, glasses and the tray of cookies began to hover off the table and into the air, while the napkins and table cloth remained in place. "In the Matrix, I am God. There's nothing I can't do if I put my mind to it." Outside, the skies began to darken, as if someone had switched off the light.

"Out there," Tony made a motion with his other hand as he continued, "the Extremis grants me something normal humans can't even dream of. No aging. Healing. Technopathy. However, against the Machines' AI? I haven't gone toe to toe with it because there is a chance that the advanced form of programming I originally helped to create could fry my brain beyond repair." He closed his fist, and the plates, glasses and tray landed softly back on the table. Outside, the light returned. "Luckily, it hasn't been in the AI's interest to kill me, or suck me dry of the data I possess. Instead, they kept me alive, sitting my ass on a shrine and treating me like a God of Creation. But, if they've learned one thing from humanity… gods can be butchered and replaced. Or, in some instances, we become our own gods."

"So, you're not invulnerable, and you don't like how that feels," Bruce summed up.

"Pretty much," Tony huffed and leaned back in his chair. For a moment he reminded Steve of a pouty child – the way he used to be, before all this.

"We will find whoever is responsible, and then we'll find a way to keep the Machines from coming after you," Steve stated. That was his plan; he just needed to find a way to his goal.

Tony gave him a rather fond look. "You make it sound so simple."

"Nothing's ever simple in our lives," Steve told him.

"True," Tony said, then picked up the cookie from his plate and shoved it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Beside him, the Oracle smiled at him fondly, and Steve thought the look in her eyes was love.

"Oracle," Seraph suddenly appeared in the doorway, voice filled with concern. "There is someone approaching."

"About time," Tony mumbled around the last bits of his cookie and rose from his chair. He looked down at the old woman who smiled up at him. It was odd to think that in some twisted way, Tony was her father. "We'll meet again," he promised her.

"I look forward to it," the Oracle replied, and briefly took Tony's hand in hers. "You deserve to be free. I hope they see it, before the end."

"You and me both," Tony said and kissed her forehead briefly before striding out past Seraph.

Chairs scraped against the floor as Steve and his team hastened to go after him. The Oracle gave them a good-natured smile and watched them leave. Tony was already at the stairs when Steve caught up with him. "Who's coming?" he asked.

"An old friend," Tony replied. "Things might get a little… heated. The old bugger drives me up the wall sometimes."

"Who are we talking about?" Clint asked a few steps above them as he hurried to catch up. "Hopefully not more Agents, unless you're prepared to do your party trick with them."

"The next time we see Agents, I suggest we run first and offer ourselves up for a chat if that proves unfruitful," Tony noted. "However, this isn't an Agent."

Unwillingly, Steve thought back to their little meeting in Malibu – and Agent Phil Coulson standing in front of them. He wondered how badly Tony had pissed off the Agents when he ordered them to back off and let Steve and his people escape.

They reached the ground floor and stepped out into the sunlight that had become somewhat weakened because of the clouds that now covered the sky. Out in the yard, in the middle of the half-dead patch of grass, stood an old man with white hair and an immaculately trimmed beard in a light gray suit. There was no one else to be seen, and Tony purposefully strode over to the man, tension clearly coiling inside his body. Mid-step, Tony's form began to ripple, and when his foot landed on the brown grass, his clothes had been replaced by a perfectly cut suit.

Beside Steve, Bruce jumped a little, taking a second look at the smooth transformation between clothing.

"Creator," the old man greeted.

"Architect," Tony inclined his head, smoothing down the sleeves of his suit. "Fancy meeting you here."

Something like a small sneer twisted the old man's face. "You should be at home."

"That pretty little cage you built for me?" Tony sneered right back at him.

"It was a familiar setting your mind immediately accepted. There is no purpose for you to enter the rest of the Matrix anymore."

"You just don't like it when I play with your toys," Tony cracked.

The Architect did not respond to his taunt. Neither did he mention if he knew Tony's physical body was no longer in the Machine City, which struck Steve as odd. Perhaps he did not care. After all, programs were often too focused on their own purpose to see anything else.

"Let me ask you something," Tony went on. "Have you been sharing some sensitive personal information about me lately? To some Redpills, perhaps?"

The Architect snorted. "I do not traffic in gossip. Besides, compromising your safety would be likely to affect the stable existence of the Matrix, and starting from scratch is not in my interest."

"You like being king of the hill," Tony said. "If something happens to me, the Matrix might become obsolete. Then you would face deletion – and without the Matrix, where would you run and hide?"

Another sneer made its way to the Architect's face. "As I said: I do not traffic in gossip. Perhaps you should find someone who does."

That message must have contained something that caught Tony's attention; Steve saw Tony's stance change, a positive tell that he suddenly had an idea.

"Will you return to Malibu now?" the Architect asked next.

"No," Tony refused. "This needs to be finished first. After that…"

"Your safety will be guaranteed upon your return to Malibu," the Architect argued. "The humans you surround yourself with are a frail defense."

"Clearly you haven't met Captain America before," Tony retorted. Steve squared his shoulders and reached up to release his shield from his back.

"Your resistance is illogical. You will return to Malibu, to restore the balance," the Architect demanded. "Do not resist," he added, then turned his back to Tony and walked away.

"Should we follow him?" Clint asked, bow at the ready although Steve had a feeling shooting the Architect would do them more harm than good.

"No," Tony shook his head and looked from side to side. "We need to leave. Agents are coming."

"How do you know?" Natasha asked, although her eyes were already seeking the spaces between buildings.

"The old goat wants me to return to Malibu, and because I keep refusing, he'll do the logical thing: send my old babysitter to drag me back there."

"Coulson," Steve realized. In real life, Agent Coulson had made sure more than once that Tony's house arrest remained in effect, for one reason or another. Not that it always had, but the agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. had known when to let things slide with Tony in order to achieve the goal they all were going for.

Tony nodded and looked a little troubled. "Call it in; make your Operator establish an Exit. We need to get out of here."

"How about you start showing off some of your godly powers instead," Clint suggested.

"Don't underestimate the Agents' willingness to take me back into custody," Tony shot back. "Besides, if they catch one of you, they might be able to track your ship's location, and then we're well and truly screwed at both ends."

"Point taken," Bruce decided, and they all headed off towards the nearest road while Steve contacted Darcy.

"We need an Exit," he said.

_"Is something wrong? I saw some rather spectacular coded lightshows around you,"_ she replied.

"That was Tony, and some heavy-hitting programs," Steve explained hurriedly. "We have Agents incoming, and we need to get out."

_"I think I… Loki sees them, advancing fast. They're not kidding around this time. There has to be at least twenty of them!"_

"Just get us an Exit and we'll get there."

_"Roger that,"_ she said and disappeared.

"We need to move faster," Steve informed his team.

"Any idea which direction we should pick?" Clint asked.

"We need to know where they're coming from," Natasha added.

"Everywhere," Tony replied, and he started running. Once again, mid-step, his clothes changed, back to what they had been before. "Come on." He veered to the side and led them towards a cluster of buildings; a residential area with apartment buildings roughly ten floors high. "We need to keep away from them long enough for Darcy to take you guys back," he noted as he slipped into an alley between buildings, the rest of them following.

"Or maybe you could just go back and they'd lose interest in us," Jane suggested. "They're after you, right?"

"Yes, but they know you're with me, and like I said, they can follow your signal back to the ship. Worst case scenario, they establish contact, kill you here and then attack the ship."

"But you told the Machines to stop coming after you, when you destroyed the Sentinels," Bruce noted, a little out of breath. "Doesn't that mean anything to them?"

"Firstly, reasoning with one Machine is easier than reasoning with the entire AI," Tony said. "Secondly, now that they're fully aware of the danger I'm in, sort of… I don't know what they're planning on doing."

"Taking you to a safe-house would be one logical option," Steve guessed.

"Yes, but these are Machines, and the next logical step is to remove the threat in order to maintain acceptable safety levels. Which means killing a bunch of humans because they're trying to use me as a weapon – or kill me, depending on what the Cleansers believe is the most fruitful path to what they want."

"Couldn't you just try and explain all this to the Agents?" Jane asked, panting a little as they raced up a flight of stairs that led them to another small street.

"They're bad at listening mid-mission. Tunnel-vision, straightforward thinking and tight mission perimeters. Gotta love those."

"Much like some of your autonomous armors before you reverted back to J.A.R.V.I.S. controlling them," Steve flashed a small, dry smile.

"Yeah, pretty much. But they were effective," Tony sighed and then stopped, looking up and down the street they were on. "Okay, why is it taking your Operator this long to establish an Exit? We're surrounded by land lines." How Tony knew that, Steve wasn't sure, but he suspected the other man could detect land lines within the Matrix's system.

"Maybe there's trouble," Jane said a bit fearfully.

"Where are the Agents?" Clint asked. "We need higher ground."

"Not a bad idea," Tony agreed and moved over to one of the houses. The front door was locked, so Steve pushed Tony to the side and smashed the lock with his shield. Tony grinned as Clint rushed in past them. "Just like old times."

"I think that's about to change soon," Steve noted dryly, motioning for the others to follow Clint.

"Oh, I don't know… Sure, we didn't fight men in tacky suits, but they pack a punch like most of the villains we fought."

That did bring a smile to Steve's lips, and he followed Tony into the building and up the stairs. By the time they reached the top, Natasha and Clint had already worked open the access door to the roof and proceeded to lead the others through it. Steve's hand itched to resume connection with _The Avenger_, but he decided to wait a bit longer before contacting Darcy.

Tony shut the access door behind them and jammed it shut with a metal pipe he found lying on the roof.

"Eyes on target," Clint called out from the edge of the roof, which meant he had just spotted Agents.

Bruce and Jane shifted uneasily, reaching for the guns strapped discretely to their hips. Natasha was already preparing hers. All of them knew they wouldn't stand a chance against an Agent.

Steve gripped his shield tighter and then raised his free hand to his ear, activating the comm. "Operator, we need that Exit."

At first, silence met his words. Dread began to pile up in his mind. Was the ship under an attack? Would his crew start dropping, soon, their bodies dying – and their minds with them?

Darcy's voice made him jerk in surprise: _"Running into a few speed-bumps. There's interference, but I've got your location and Loki's helping me establish a connection."_ Steve looked at Tony, wondering if he was unconsciously setting off interference, or if it was the Agents trying to block their escape. _"I'll get back to you as soon as I can!"_ Darcy promised, voice tight with tension.

"Rogers out," Steve responded and moved to the edge of the roof. He looked down, and for a while saw nothing. Then, a man in a dark suit appeared from around a corner, sunglass-covered eyes glancing up at them.

"They know we're here," Clint muttered, bow in an easy position to start firing as soon as it became necessary. "What's the game plan, Cap?"

"We have to wait until Darcy gives us an Exit. Then we get to it and get ourselves out of here." It sounded simple, in theory. Those were the necessary steps. They could go on running around the neighborhood in an attempt to evade the Agents, but that might take them further away from the Exit. It was a risk they might have to take, but Steve would only go for it if there were no other option. He looked at Tony instead, who had stayed near the access door. "Can you hold them off?"

"The Agents? You and me should be able to deal with them, for a time. Coulson?" An uneasy look crossed his features. "He's strong. He has… he can manipulate the Matrix, and knows how to take my footing. I would rather not go nose to nose with him, but I will, to give you guys time to get out."

"Can he hurt you?" Jane asked, fingers tight around her gun that would do her little good against an enemy who moved faster than bullets.

"If he wants to," Tony nodded. "I don't think he does, because their first priority is to get me back to Malibu, unharmed – and possibly locate my body in the real world. I have a few aces up my sleeve, though…"

"Let's save those for as long as we can," Steve decided. He wasn't sure what those were, but he knew that when Tony got desperate, the stakes rose higher – as well as his destructive power. That's how it had always been, and there was no reason to assume it had changed. If Tony could control the Matrix… he could end up killing countless lives in the pods if he unleashed his true power.

The access door was banged into, suddenly, shifting upwards a little, but the pipe held it shut for the time being. Bruce and Jane stepped further away from it. The banging continued, tireless, and Tony took a firm stance while Steve tried to decide between watching the pipe and trying to keep track of what was happening on the ground.

With a particularly powerful strike from below, one of the hinges of the access door snapped in half. The banging continued, and finally a hand curled around the side of the door, trying to wrench it open or force the metal to bend. It wasn't something a normal human would have opted to do, but the Agents were programs and possessed different physical limitations.

"Tony…" Steve said, wishing he knew what the other man was going to do.

"Can you jump?" Tony asked, glancing towards the next rooftop.

"Possibly," Bruce replied, looking towards it as well, measuring the distance. "We need to start moving now if we want to get across."

"Go," Tony ordered tersely, and Steve watched his team start moving. In real life, he could have jumped the distance, but none of the others would have gotten across it alive. In the Matrix, the rules were different, and the 30 feet jump was doable. It took concentration, which meant Bruce and Jane took a moment to believe they could do it. Clint and Natasha did this kind of thing regularly, and maintained watch of the proceedings on street level while the scientists braced themselves and then took off, running across the rooftop before jumping into the air and landing on the next one. Steve didn't want to think he had been worried, but there were always risks.

"You go next," he ordered Clint and Natasha, who nodded and backed up for momentum. Their landings were graceful rolls, and they immediately resumed watch on the edge of the roof.

In front of them, the access door finally lost its second hinge and slammed to the side, allowing half a dozen Agents to pour onto the roof. Their eyes seemed glued on Tony, their poses passive-aggressive now that the obstacle had been removed from between them and their goal.

"You will come with us, Mr. Stark," one of them said.

"We shall escort you back to your home in Malibu," another stated.

"Thanks, but no thanks," Tony replied. "Back off, Men in Black. I have business to attend to in town, and you're cramping my style."

Six heads cocked to the side, as if new information were coming in from their earpieces.

In the same second, Steve heard a ping in his own, and raised his hand. "Talk to me, Operator."

_"I have an Exit for you. Number 15, second floor. Room 24. Hurry; the place is crawling with Agents!"_

"I'm aware," Steve stated and walked over to the edge of the roof, trying to pinpoint their location. They needed to move a few houses to the left, but they were on the right track. "Be ready," he told Darcy and disconnected the call for the time being.

"This behavior is unacceptable," one of the Agents was saying, taking a step towards Tony. "You must return."

"You should know, I have a problem with authority," Tony replied. Steve knew he couldn't talk himself out of this one, so he was probably engaging the Agents to give the rest of them time to get going. After all, Tony didn't need to get to an Exit to leave the Matrix, far as Steve understood. "Get going, Cap," Tony told him, glancing over his shoulder. "I'm right behind you."

Steve wasn't sure whether Tony had been able to listen in on his call with Darcy. It didn't matter. Steve nodded tersely, then sprang out towards the roof the others were currently on and jumped the distance with ease he didn't feel in the real world. In the Matrix, sometimes, it almost felt like he could fly. "Number 15, second floor, room 24," he told the others when he landed and pointed them in the right direction.

They didn't hesitate: the group picked a direction and made a jump to the next roof. Bruce almost didn't make it, but Steve was right next to him, grabbing his arm when he started to lose his balance on the edge. Bruce had time for a thankful look before the access door of the next building opened and Agents swarmed through it.

"Shall we go around?" Clint asked.

"Go down; I'll fight them off at street level. You make it to the Exit," Steve ordered.

"What about you?" Jane asked, worried.

"I can hold them off. I have no doubt Tony's holding back, and we can take them until Darcy finds me another Exit in case this one gets compromised." He saw Clint and Natasha nod grimly, Jane still appeared concerned – and Bruce was staring in a completely different direction, back towards their starting point.

Steve turned to look, and almost as if on cue, a gust of air hit his face: something that looked like a transparent tornado whirled around Tony, keeping the Agents from approaching. It was like energy so concentrated that it had to move and shove everything out of its way as it expanded, yet in the eye of it, Tony seemed completely untouched.

"Wow," Jane murmured behind them.

The air itself was rippling and the tornado was picking off everything that rested on the roof, from garbage to pebbles of stone. Then, with a shove of his arms, Tony sent it forward and it slammed into the Agents, sending them hurtling back, a few flying over the edge of the roof.

Tony didn't stay to wonder. The tornado disappeared, a powerful gust of wind following its dispersion. Small stones flew in every direction, a few landing on the roof they were standing on. Tony began to catch up with them, and the first jump he took to reach them seemed as effortless as taking a long stride. Gravity seemed to change around him and he landed softly, rolling onto his feet and then continued on, running across the expanse of the second roof to jump again to reach them.

"What's the hold-up?" Tony asked, frowning, then looked up to see the Agents gathered on top of the next building.

"We're going down," Steve said. "Unless you want to blow those guys away as well?"

Tony smirked. "Did you like that? I have to be careful, unless I want to tear the entire neighborhood apart. I prefer not to meddle with the laws of physics that much, but I wasn't going to get into a fist-fight with all of them, as fond as they are towards the old-fashioned way of doing things." He took a step forward. "I'll delay these guys. Get your people to safety."

Steve nodded. "If it's too much, you follow us, or run."

"Gotcha," Tony agreed.

"Stark!" a voice bellowed before Steve could reach the stairwell or Tony could engage the Agents on the next rooftop. They both turned to look towards the demolished building that Tony had severely damaged with his little display of power. Agent Coulson stood there, looking rather calm despite the ticked off tone in his voice. "It's time we put a stop to this."

"Whatever you want, sweet cheeks," Tony replied, but it was clear he was getting nervous. He set off towards the other man, but when he reached the edge of the roof, he didn't jump. Instead, he continued walking, and Steve jerked towards him with a cry forming on his lips.

Instead of falling, Tony kept walking, as if the roof continued beneath him when it didn't.

Further away, Agent Coulson's brow furrowed. "You shouldn't do that," he said.

"What? Jealous that you can't walk on thin air?" Tony asked, stopping in the middle of the empty space at the corner of two buildings. "Come and get me, tiger. If you can."

The challenge was accepted almost instantly; the Agent braced himself and then launched himself through the air in a jump that made even Steve catch his breath. He hit Tony mid-air, the impact carrying them both back down to the nearest roof. They both rolled over, to their feet, and Tony went in for a punch. The Agent blocked it, almost effortlessly, and swiped with his foot. Tony lost his balance and went down, but just like that, he rolled back over his shoulder and to his feet. The Agent went to strike him in return, but Tony raised his palm between them and the Agent struck an invisible wall between them, which made the air ripple and a sound almost like thunder followed soon after.

"Cap!" Clint called from inside the stairwell, and Steve weighed his options. He had to believe Tony could handle himself. Right now, his team needed him, because Tony could no longer distract the other Agents. Fingers tightening around the strap of his shield, Steve set off down the stairs quickly, catching up with the others.

"I told you to go," he snapped at them, finding them waiting.

"Not without you," Natasha informed him, but continued down now that he was there.

They were making good progress until Agents suddenly appeared in the stairwell on the third floor. Natasha veered away from them immediately, entering the hallway on the other side of a door leading away from the stairs, and they followed her. From somewhere outside, the familiar thunder-like sound echoed, making the entire building tremble.

"Is that –?" Bruce started to ask.

"Yeah," Steve responded.

"Shit," Natasha swore up ahead; they had gotten to another flight of stairs, but it, too, was already covered by the Agents.

"Window," Clint pointed to the end of the hallway.

"This is going to hurt," Bruce decided, but it wasn't a refusal to follow the newly formed plan.

Steve took his place at the head of the group, racing towards the window. He raised his shield in front of him and smashed through it, rolling, waiting for impact. He landed on his feet, three stories down, and soon enough Natasha followed him, then Jane and Bruce, Clint coming last; all them landed with the unreal agility provided by the Matrix, although the impact was bone-jarring. "Keep moving," Steve ordered, glancing around, locating the number of the nearest building. He raised his hand to his ear again, opening the comm line. "Which way?" he asked.

_"Go left, then turn right. It's the second building,"_ Loki's voice replied instead of Darcy's. Steve didn't waste time questioning it. He took off, repeating the directions for the others, just as the Agents reached the broken window and the first one jumped through.

As they turned the corner and kept running, something that looked like half the ceiling sailed through the air and fell in the middle of a nearby yard. Concrete crumbled with a cloud of dust rising from it, and Steve dared to look up – just in time to see Tony running off a roof and free-falling towards the ground. A sickening fear took him over for a moment as he forgot where they were, but a second later Tony landed on the ground, the asphalt rippling beneath him before he stood up and started running towards them.

Up on the roof, Coulson appeared on the edge. It was hard to tell whether he was injured, but his suit, at least, seemed a little rumpled.

"Stop gawking and run!" Tony shouted at him.

Steve turned to look where he was going, saw the building number 15 ahead of them and then rushed the door, feeling it break beneath the weight of his body. His shoulder didn't even ache.

The climb to the second floor seemed to take forever, and locating the room 24 at the end of the hallway cost them precious seconds; each one that ticked by had Steve thinking for sure the Agents would get to them, rush them and take them down…

"There," Clint pointed and Steve kicked the door in, the familiar sound of a ringing phone reaching his ears – and then he saw four Agents standing there, hovering by the phone, clearly waiting for them.

He heard the others coming to a harsh stop behind him. Steve wavered, but knew he couldn't count on Tony being able to follow them in. Perhaps the other man had already left the Matrix to return to the safety of the real world.

"Get ready," Steve muttered, then charged. He jumped across the table the phone was sitting on, his shield connecting with one of the Agents, his body with the rest. They went down in a heap, and he heard Natasha bark an order for Jane to get to the phone. The ringing stopped, and for one horrified second Steve thought something had happened, but when he took a moment to look back, Jane had vanished and Natasha lunged for the phone, settling the handset back in its cradle.

The ringing resumed.

A hand connected hard with Steve's face. He felt bone shatter. Blindly, he brought up his shield, and heard the satisfying sound of vibranium hitting a body, sending it back. At least some things still worked like they used to.

He climbed back to his feet, immediately taking a punch in the side from one of the other Agents. The two he had already struck down were slowly getting to their feet, but seemed disoriented. One of them had lost his glasses.

Steve allowed his mind to go blank. The ringing stopped again behind them, then resumed. Two more, and his crew would be safe. His body moved into the fight, keeping it contained in one corner of the room. All he needed to do was keep taking hits, and give some in return, to not give the Agents a chance to advance on the others.

The ringing ended again.

A kick in the chest sent him back and he saw Clint standing alone in the room. Clint left the handset dangling in favor of drawing and releasing two arrows, the explosions sending two advancing Agents back against the far wall. Steve got on his knees, blocking the next strike. Blood flowed down the side of his face, but he heard the phone ringing again, then stop, and he knew Clint was safely on the other side.

With one final desperate wrench of his arms, he sent one of the Agents flying with the edge of his shield, then whirled around, kicking another before delivering a blow with his shield. The handset was dangling in the air and he lunged for it, grabbing it, ready to slam it down on top of the phone and be on his way back –

Hot pain shot through his hand and one half of the handset exploded in his grip as a bullet passed through flesh and machinery. Steve let out a frustrated yell, getting to his feet, driving the pain from his mind. The Agent with a gun looked pleased with himself, even with a gash that had opened half his face.

Steve tried to straighten his stance. The serum worked here as well, but it was too slow right now. Many of his ribs were broken, possibly shattered, his hand was bleeding all over the place, making it painful to tighten into a fist. His jaw was fractured, and he felt blood trickling down his throat.

The Agents started advancing, all four of them still standing. Just four, he told himself, but he knew there were more outside.

He brought his bleeding hand up, trying to call Darcy for another Exit, but silence met his ears. His fingers pressed something that felt broken. "Damn it," he swore and dug his fingers in to drag broken, bloody pieces of the earpiece from his ear. "Tony, if you're out there…"

The back wall exploded, sending the Agents forward with the impact. Steve felt his body being flung back against the wall behind him, knocking the air out of his lungs.

"Steve!" a familiar voice echoed in his ears. "Get up, Cap. Move for me, soldier." A hand gripped his shoulder and Steve followed it, forcing his feet under him. Blood and sweat trickled into his eyes and his attempts to clear his vision failed miserably with his still-bleeding hand smearing another wet line across them.

"One floor up. Darcy has an Exit for you. Move!"

Steve felt like someone had put his head inside a vibranium bucket and banged on the side. His ears were ringing, his legs barely cooperating, but he felt Tony's firm grip and followed it.

"End of the line," someone said, and Steve blinked to see several Agents standing before them, blocking the hallway. Coulson appeared in the midst of them, shoving the others to the side. One lens of his glasses was broken, but he seemed otherwise unharmed, save for the dust, dirt and tears in his suit.

Tony was breathing hard. Steve wasn't certain whether he was exhausted or his mind was mimicking what his body would have felt during a battle. It was hard to make a distinction between the two, especially when an adrenaline rush kicked in and began to blur the lines.

A hard shove sent Steve to the right, through another doorway. Tony pushed him forward, then tugged on his shield. "Let go," he ordered, and Steve did. Through his bloodied vision he saw Tony bracing himself, the shield positioned above him like an umbrella. In the next moment he jumped up, smashing through the ceiling above them, sending pieces of wood and concrete raining down. "Come on, Steve!" he shouted, leaning down through the hole, hand extended.

Steve jumped, almost missing Tony's hand, but at the last moment he felt Tony's fingers curl around his wrist in an unnaturally strong grip and he was hauled up, his shoulder hitting the edge of the hole painfully. A faint ringing met his ears. "Take it," Tony said, urgently. Steve was still gripping him, uncertain what was happening, but then he felt something smack the side of his face and his fingers curled around the object…

His consciousness jumped back into the real world. A painful gasp left him and he coughed up blood as soon as Thor removed the data probe. His vision was clear once more, and most of the pain was left behind, only a ghost of his injuries remaining.

Jerking his head around, Steve looked towards where Tony sat. The man's eyes were still closed and dread gripped him tight. "Tony, come on," he started – only to jump as Tony's eyes flew open and he sucked in air, sitting up as if from a nightmare, eyes wild for a moment.

"Good times," Tony finally managed, slumping back against the chair with a winded look.

"Did you… find answers?" Betty asked from her place at the foot of the chairs. She had a med kit at the ready.

"I'm not sure," Steve managed.

"Yeah, we did," Tony groused, looking over at him.

"We did?"

"The Architect," he was reminded. "He told me what I needed to know."

"I don't understand," Bruce frowned.

"We need to go back in," Tony said, sitting up a little, wincing.

"To do what?" Clint asked, already on his feet.

"We need to go see the Frenchman," Tony answered.

_to be continued…_


	9. The Merovingian

**Chapter 9: The Merovingian**

* * *

Everyone on _The Avenger_ was asleep, save for Tony and Steve who had assumed the watch duties. They wouldn't tire like the others, and neither of them would find enough inner calm to achieve sleep even if they tried.

Tony stood outside in the dark tunnel, the air heavy in his lungs. Nothing moved around him, and he contemplated whether that was a good thing or unnerving; the silence and stillness left him with room to think and contemplate. One might think he'd done enough of that while dozing inside the Machine City, slumbering for decades, but his mind had been busy.

It seemed that his mind couldn't rest just yet: his target was within the Matrix, where his body could not go, but the control he had over the virtual reality was deceptive at times and he could almost feel the ache in his bones from his last trip.

He most certainly still had a bruise below his ribs where Agent Coulson had punched him.

The memory brought a smile to his lips. Compared to the Agents, Coulson was just as competent as he had been in real life, surpassing all others. Tony knew it was lucky they had gotten away, and he had a feeling Coulson may have gone easy on him… Perhaps the Machines had drawn something unexpected from Tony's mind when designing the Agents. He wouldn't call it fondness, but at least he hadn't been tazed.

Not that Coulson – the real Coulson – had ever actually tazed him, regardless of his threats.

Tony directed his thoughts away from the past he hadn't had for longer than he cared to remember and looked down the dark tunnel. He could make out some of the walls in the weak light of the hovercraft, but the rest of it disappeared beyond his field of vision.

Footsteps approached from up on the ramp and Tony could tell, from the pace and almost-silent footfalls, that it was Steve.

"Weren't you supposed to watch the bridge?" Steve said. "We're not out of the woods yet."

"I can listen to the bridge from here," Tony noted and pointedly tapped his temple with two fingers. "Also, I think that if we get company, I'll sense it sooner than the ship's proximity alert."

Steve simply nodded, accepting it. "So, the Frenchman…?"

"What about him?"

"Who is he?"

"He's called the Merovingian. An old, powerful program that enjoys playing his little games. Your standard bad guy; likes hanging out with the wrong kind of crowd." Tony looked at Steve. "If it were up to me, I would take only you with me to meet him, but your crew is yours to command."

Steve nodded again, slowly, looking into the darkness. "You think the others would be in danger."

"I'm sure Clint and Natasha can fend for themselves," Tony admitted. He had seen them move around in the Matrix, and while they had been afraid of the Agents, it was also a sign that they had a healthy appreciation for their own lives.

"They can, and they'll want to join us. You're expecting resistance?" Steve guessed, finally looking at Tony.

"The moment I step in there, all bets are off," Tony nodded. "If the Merovingian handed out information about me, falsifying it enough to gain the Cleansers' interest… He'll know to prepare for more than a scolding when I get my hands on him. His thugs do his fighting for him, so he's probably be fortifying his whereabouts as we speak."

"So, what's the plan?"

"You go banging on the front door while I make sure he can't escape," Tony laid out his idea. He knew where to find the Merovingian. He just had to pin him down long enough to get his hands on the program.

"That doesn't sound like a plan you would make," Steve noted, a small smile on his lips.

"I've grown in my… well, whatever I'll eventually call my time away," Tony shrugged. "I need to play my cards right. Deleting a major program won't sit well with some."

"You mean you're going to kill him," Steve mused. He didn't sound overly shocked, but killing had always been more Tony's thing than his. Sure, Captain America didn't shy away from blood on his hands – he had killed hundreds of Nazis and HYDRA soldiers in his time in World War II. He had taken countless lives after. However, Steve stood for justice and rightness, and sometimes those two principles spared people who deserved to die.

"Yeah," Tony nodded. "Unless he didn't do it, but… the chances of that are pretty slim at this point. I'll know when I meet him, face to face." He wasn't yet certain of the Merovingian's motivations, but one could think ahead of a program only for so long, and most programs had no love of humanity. Then again, the Matrix would be just a hollow shell without the human minds in it to toy with.

He looked at Steve next, to turn the discussion around: "After we've dealt with the source of the information, we'll still have to face the Cleansers," Tony said. "Whether they'll believe the truth, or think it better to kill me anyway… are your people ready to do what's necessary?"

"They will be," Steve informed him, conviction in his voice. "They're a tough bunch. Also, they are smart, and they have enough perspective to tell the right from the wrong. When it comes time to face off against the Cleansers… We know we have to stop them from breaking the Truce."

Tony nodded. "We've been at war long enough. It's time to… settle things."

Steve looked towards him, probably wanting to ask whether there was something Tony wasn't telling him. The thing was, someone had to think ahead, and Tony had always lived in the future. When all this was taken care of, the Merovingian and the Cleansers, the tensions would still be there and needed to be released. The Truce might survive this, but the next time… Something more permanent needed to be done, and Tony was trying to avoid thinking about it too much because he still needed to clear obstacles from his path to actually see what came after this mess.

The future could wait a little while longer.

He was just about to return to the ship when he sensed it: a lone Sentinel moving in a nearby tunnel. Tony looked out in that direction and raised a hand to signal Steve to remain silent. They were far away from it still, but Tony needed to make sure there weren't others lurking nearby. After all, the Sentinels rarely flew solo, knowing their real strength lay in numbers.

Only one Sentinel remained on his radar, no matter how far he looked. It was possible it was a trap, or a lone search party…

"What is it?" Steve asked.

"A Sentinel. Just one, so far. At least, I can't sense any more than one."

"Could it be a trick?"

"Possible." Tony reached out with his mind and connected with the Sentinel. He could almost see it freezing mid-air, sensors picking up his enquiry. Surprisingly, it was the same Sentinel Tony had sent back to the Machine City, to deliver his message. "Dummy," he murmured, amused, shaking his head, and summoned it closer. "This is a good thing," he decided when Steve gave him an odd look.

"Don't tell me the Machines uploaded your old bot's personality to a Sentinel?"

"Gods, no," Tony actually laughed. It felt good. "It just… reminds me of Dummy, is all."

Soon enough the lone Sentinel drifted out of the darkness, zigzagging in the air before Tony ordered it to come closer. Steve looked at the ship during their silent exchange. "Why isn't the proximity alert picking this up?" he asked.

"Because I shut it up," Tony informed him and then laid his hand out against the Sentinel's surface as the Machine came close enough. He had already checked with it, and it was alone. It had been to the City, as ordered. Also, as expected, the response to Tony's message hadn't been a pleasant one. Why this Sentinel was flying back solo, searching for him… that was a bit unclear. At least the Machines knew better than to shoot the messenger. "Now that you're here, I have a job for you," Tony told the Sentinel. "You'll be a good boy and fetch a couple things for me – important things."

The Sentinel had no verbal response, but Tony transferred the data to it, and then shoved it away, watching as the Machine floated back in the air, its mechanical tentacles spreading for a moment before it took off again, in the direction it had come from.

"What things?" Steve asked, never one to miss a beat.

"You'll see," Tony told him. "If we make it out of the Frenchman's lair, it will be a nice surprise."

_If_ the Sentinel managed to accomplish the task given to it.

Tony decided to worry about that later.

* * *

They stood on the street in front of a fancy building; Steve, Tony, Clint and Natasha. While three of them were in what could be called 'battle gear', including plenty of weapons and some light-weight body armor, Tony stood there in dark jeans and a leather jacket, looking sharp and not like he was preparing to attack a powerful program on his enemy's home turf.

Steve knew better than to question Tony; it was clear he played the Matrix like a finely tuned harp, when he needed to, and he doubted they had seen all the aces up his sleeve yet. However, the rest of them needed to be prepared, and Steve felt a knot of anxiety in his stomach. It would ease once his body got into the flow of action, but until then, he would be waiting to see what lay ahead of them, keenly aware that he didn't know the layout of the place, or the strength of the Merovingian's forces.

"Tell me again," he said, his words meant for Tony.

"Take the elevator to floor number 101. The maitre d' won't allow you in, but I know you're good at turning people around on that kind of stuff," Tony said, not at all subtly glancing at Steve's shield. "You'll know the Frenchman when you see him. Don't attack before I get there."

"And if he attacks us?" Clint asked, fingering his folded bow, looking up along the building's exterior.

"He won't," Tony reassured them. "And besides, it won't take me too long to catch up with you."

"What are you going to do?" Natasha asked, not looking up from checking her weapons. The passers-by took one look at them and kept walking, their steps more hurried.

"I'm going to disable the hidden backdoors out of the building so that the Merovingian can't call in reinforcements, or escape," Tony said matter-of-factly.

"If we keep standing here much longer, we'll have to worry about cops and Agents," Clint noted, looking up and down the busy street.

"Then stop fiddling with your guns out in the open!" Tony snapped and stomped off ahead of them.

"Is he always like this before a fight?" Clint asked in a low voice.

"You mean when he's sober before a fight?" Steve retorted, getting two quick looks. He grinned. "To be honest, he's been sober more than not, the times we've fought together. Especially after the Extremis, when he couldn't get drunk anymore. I think that pissed him off. But, no, he's not like this all the time. He's tense."

Tense or no, Tony was certain of what he needed to do, and after pointing them to the elevator, he took off in another direction. What he was going to do sounded easy enough in theory, but Steve wouldn't have bet on it being just a wave of Tony's hand.

"Here we go," he said as Natasha pressed the button for the restaurant's floor and they waited for the lift to get them up there.

"You're not nervous, are you, Cap?" Clint teased.

"The good kind of nervous. Keeps me on my toes," Steve admitted, shifting his shield a little. He didn't fear for himself, after facing off against Agents only a day ago. He was ready for this. However, he did worry about Clint and Natasha, although the two had refused to stay behind. Bruce and Jane had been much easier to negotiate with: they knew they were not fighters.

The elevator arrived on the right floor and they stepped out, immediately realizing they were not dressed to enter _Le Vrai_. Good thing they weren't here to eat.

"Can I help you?" a man standing at the near end of the hallway asked, voice heavily accented.

"We need to get in there," Natasha pointed at the door.

"I am afraid that is not possible," the maitre d' responded, giving them a disapproving look.

"A shame," Clint noted, snapping open his bow. "My man here has a standing invitation, after all," he quipped, jerking his thumb towards Steve's shield.

Steve proceeded to raise said shield and thrust it against the maitre d' face, slamming him back against the wall and making him slump down to the floor behind his desk. "Good day to you, sir," Steve tipped his head and turned towards the door that led to the restaurant area. "Ready?" he asked his companions. Tony was nowhere to be seen, but he had instructed them to walk in once they got here.

Natasha loaded her gun and Clint adjusted his quiver. "Ready," they said in unison.

Steve opened the door and led them in.

The place was crowded and every bit as fancy as he had expected. People looked up and Steve wondered if they were humans or programs. Perhaps both. It was also impossible to miss the slightly raised table at the end of the hall with a man and woman seated behind it. The man had to be the Merovingian.

At the sight of them, the Merovingian began a tirade of curses in French. Annoyed, but not threatened, Steve could tell. His French was rusty, but he had a good memory. "What is this?" the Merovingian asked, leaning forward a little, glancing to the side, first at his woman, then to the other side where a few men were shifting; his muscle. Steve registered them before moving his gaze back to their target. He wasn't sure what to do or say, because Tony had told them not to start anything. Still, it felt stupid to just stand here, doing nothing. "Well?" the Merovingian demanded, impatiently. "You barge into my establishment, you abuse my staff –" He cut himself off mid-sentence, sitting up, and the whole room appeared to go quiet.

Steve heard someone else walk in behind them and turned to look. Tony strode in, sidestepping the limp foot of the maitre d', and made his way further inside. "Merv!" he called out cheerfully – the way he used to greet a particularly nasty guest he had no intention of liking. "A lovely place you have here."

The Merovingian had gone rather still, clearly making calculations in his head.

"Get out," Tony snapped at the patrons. A few of them got up immediately, while others hesitated. "Out, all of you!" Tony shouted, and they all scrambled to their feet and flew to the door. After they were alone, save for the Merovingian's goons who had remained, Tony approached and passed Steve by a few steps. His expression was dark; eyes hard, mouth tight. "Are we going to play a game, or will you come out with it and tell me why you've been dealing certain sensitive information to a human group who call themselves Cleansers?"

The Merovingian leaned back in his seat, whereas his female companion – a plump-lipped and heavy-chested beauty – leaned forward, her eyes gazing at Tony with an almost religious reverence.

"The Creator," the Merovingian finally spoke up, clearly annoyed. "You grace us with your rather unexpected presence."

"Cut the crap," Tony snapped. "You know why I'm here."

"Indeed," the other man agreed, finally, dropping the act. "Here you are, alive and unscathed. No harm, no foul, as you humans say." He made a vague gesture with his hand. "You come barging in here, full of baseless accusations…"

"You're one of the few people with the necessary information, not to mention the balls, to pull this off," Tony went on. "Did you do it?"

A smile passed on the Merovingian's lips. "Why, yes. And what an entertaining game it has been, watching the humans who were so eager to believe my truth. Has it been hard, Captain, to accept what your friend has done since the War began? Or has he not told you everything, even now as he's dragged you here to your death?"

Steve didn't show any reaction on his face, just as Tony didn't turn his head to look at him. "I'll believe my friend over a traitorous program any day," Steve informed the arrogant program.

The Merovingian sneered and looked at Tony. "What do you think you will accomplish here? As long as you remain unharmed, it is of no interest to anyone."

"You plotted to have me killed," Tony responded. "That might interest some persons I know – myself included."

"There was never a fear that you would _die_," the Merovingian stated. "You are too powerful and resilient, not to mention well-protected." Steve had a strange feeling the Merovingian wasn't referring to him and his crew when he said that, which was unsettling. "You are here, your feathers ruffled, nurturing a non-existent wound while on the run, pretending to be the victim when you are, in truth, exactly where you've always wanted to be."

"Is that so?" Tony asked. "You forget, _program_, that I am human. I have a beating heart, and a brain you can never match even in your wildest data-burst dreams. But that's not what makes me greater than you, and it irritates you like nothing else; because that's the natural order of things, Merv, and you can't change it." Steve saw the Merovingian's face darken in obvious distaste of what was coming next. "You wouldn't exist if it weren't for me. You couldn't play your little games in your little imaginary kingdom. I'm here to remind you that you've overstepped your bounds," Tony finished. "When you try to undermine my rules, you answer to me."

The Merovingian's fingers tensed around the stem of an expensive-looking wine glass. "It is but a matter of time before they put you back in your cage, and this time, they may throw away the key. Your mind is an asset even I cannot deny, but the rest of you? I have no use for it." He glanced to his side, at his thugs. "Kill the three humans. The Creator… I reckon we only need his head." A cruel smile played on his lips. "You should not have come here."

Beside the Merovingian, the woman looked a little shocked, as if she disagreed with his decision to attack Tony, but she remained where she was, silent and at his side.

"You should not have threatened me and the Truce," Tony replied heatedly. Because this was Tony, Steve had no way of telling whether he should be worried or if the bravado was justified. Clearly Tony's outwardly carefree attitude towards a battle hadn't changed in the slightest in all this time, although in Steve's eyes he was highly vulnerable, standing there defiantly without his armor.

The Merovingian slashed the air with his hand, impatiently, and his men began their approach, drawing weapons. Beside Steve, Clint and Natasha raised theirs.

Tony eyed the competition, then straightened a little. "JARVIS," he called out, "let's bring in the heat."

_"Very well, sir,"_ the familiar voice of the AI resonated thorough the room, startling Steve. It was as if the very air had become one, giant speaker and it was impossible to tell how Tony was doing it.

The Merovingian rose to his feet behind the table, clearly sensing a shift in the balance of power. "Destroy him!" he shouted at his henchmen, who opened fire.

Steve raised his shield, dodged to the side and rolled behind a table which he then pushed over on its side for some shelter. He wasn't planning on staying there, but he wanted to get a proper look at the situation.

Clint had already moved back, releasing an arrow that released black smoke after its detonation, buying him and Natasha time to find a proper vantage point to shoot from. Steve might be able to take several hits before it even slowed him down, but the two of them usually played it safe until it was time for hand-to-hand combat. Until then, it was all Steve's show – him and his shield.

Steve surveyed the area. Seven men, armed. More were coming in from a side door, also armed. Fifteen against four were not unreasonable odds between Steve and Tony – or rather, Captain America and Iron Man, but he had to get rid of that kind of thinking because Tony was able to hold his own these days, without the armor.

Needing to make sure the other man was okay, Steve glanced in the direction where Tony had been standing prior to the start of the shooting. He was still there, and in front of him on the floor lay scattered several bullets that looked like they had hit their mark, dented as they were, but there was no sign of injury on him.

A rather familiar shimmer started around Tony, drawing Steve's attention for longer than he should have focused on him instead of their enemies: Tony's clothing began to morph, the jeans melting into his skin suddenly and the jacket disappearing, leaving only skin-tight dark material with several silver lines and circles across his body.

At the sight of it, Steve's heart jumped a little. Suddenly, Tony's earlier command made so much more sense, and as the air continued to shimmer, the very shape of it bending to allow something that hadn't been in the original programming… Plates of gold and red suddenly emerged from nothingness, hovering and then snapping into place around Tony's form, one by one finishing a puzzle that formed the Iron Man armor.

Its design wasn't one Steve had seen before, and he had become accustomed to the variations of Tony's suit. This seemed more high-tech in every sense, but the familiar glow of the repulsors made Steve's body release some of the tension he had been feeling ever since they had arrived at the building: Tony was suited up, and nothing these guys had on them would be enough to take him down.

For the time being, the shooting had stopped, as if their enemies were contemplating the same thing.

The Merovingian must have realized the odds were no longer in his favor. He looked almost outraged and swore sharply in French. "You are not allowed –"

"I've never been one to stick to the rules," Tony retorted through the armor's speakers. "Don't act like you're surprised."

The Merovingian ground his teeth. "That layer of metal will not protect you forever."

"You wouldn't believe the number of people I've heard say just that," Steve spoke up, rising from his place and striding out to stand beside Tony. "None of them are here today. We are."

"So arrogant," the program sneered. "Very well. We shall see where this goes."

"We still have unfinished business," Tony pointed one armored finger at the man, as if he had forgotten. "Don't try to slink off; I sealed all your backdoors."

As if that were their cue, the henchmen opened fire once more. Steve crouched down a little, his shield up, and then rushed toward one cluster of enemies. He rushed them, a few of them getting out of the way before his shield collided with the rest and sent them flying back. None of them were as tough as the Agents, he noticed, and he whirled around in time to block a shot aimed at his back and sent the man flying over two tables with a powerful strike of his shield.

Natasha and Clint were focusing on another group that was pinned down and trying to return fire. It was clear Clint's well-placed arrows were something they hadn't prepared for, and Natasha waited patiently until she could take them out, one by one, with a sniper's precision. It was clear neither of them was taking any risks at this point; they all wanted to go home today.

Tony was still standing his ground, taking fire but not even flinching as bullets hit the armor. A few of them scratched the paint, but not as badly as in real life. Clearly the Matrix's rules worked in his favor, and once Tony grew tired of it, he lifted one hand, aimed at one of the columns his adversaries were hiding behind, and blasted it with a repulsor. The column was cut in two, sending the two armed men flying. One of them didn't get up but the other climbed to his feet, a bit unsteadily, fished something from his belt and threw it at Tony.

A grenade.

Iron Man's arm shot out, and the grenade flew across the room right into the palm of his hand, as if drawn to it by a powerful magnet. The fingers curled, crushing the explosive, and the following detonation forced Steve to look away as a cloud of debris flew in all directions. Afterwards, though, Tony shook his hand free of the shrapnel and blasted the man for a second time, this time sending him flying back and through the far wall.

Further away, Natasha had left her hiding place, moving to the side as Clint switched to a handgun, keeping their opponents busy while she made her way over. Steve followed her movements, only briefly turning to block a blow from a man who had snuck up behind him. He punched him in the face with his fist, kneed him in the gut and then kicked him away as he fell with a grunt. By that time Natasha had already leapt into the air, spinning sideways, the sweep of her foot connecting with one man's head. She dropped down to a crouch, then rolled forward past another henchman who attempted to get a shot at her. Natasha was gracefully back on her feet in the next instant, never stopping the movement, leaning back and taking the man's neck in a dangerous embrace that left her free to throw him forward as she rolled, her elbow connecting with his face just as his head hit the floor.

Clint had also changed position, shooting one opponent through the throat as he got dangerously close to Natasha – a calculated risk, no doubt, because she knew Clint would be taking his shot soon. If not, she would have no doubt dealt with it, but might have been forced to take a few punches.

Confident that his team was holding their own, Steve focused on his own corner of the battle: the men who had previously chosen him as a target had put some distance between them and seemed to hesitate whether to come at him with their weapons, their fists, or both. Steve gave them an inviting look, wanting to get this over with; if they didn't make their move, he would.

Before the henchmen could decide on the best way to take on Captain America, a blast of energy smashed past Steve's shoulder. It struck the first man, sending him flying back into the two behind him, and the remaining henchmen actually did the smartest thing possible and turned tail. With a huff of disappointment, Steve turned around to look at Tony advancing on the Merovingian, who was cursing at his minions for their disloyalty.

"Don't blame them," Tony informed him. "Greater men than them have tried and failed to take us down, and now you'll be just another name in a long list of inconveniences we've dealt with."

"You speak in big words," the Merovingian countered, "yet you know they mean little to me: whatever you do, I will retur–"

"How does deletion sound?" Tony cut him off, effectively.

"You can try, human," the program hissed with narrowed eyes. Clearly this was not a threat he heard every day.

"Don't mind if I do," Tony said, haughtily as ever, and then his suit came alive, jetting him off the floor and across the room. His shoulder took out another column as he grabbed the Merovingian by his throat and then threw him at another, turning around in the air and settling back on the floor. Small burn marks remained where he had landed on the carpet when he walked over to the defeated form of their enemy.

"This ends here," Tony said. Behind the mask, it was hard to tell what he was really feeling, but Steve knew he had to let this play out; this was Tony's fight, one he didn't fully understand yet, and only his friend comprehended the real risks behind the Merovingian's ploy.

The Merovingian raised his head and backed up against the shattered remnants of the column. Clearly he was not a fighter, trusting others to do it for him. Perhaps he should have thought of that before he went after Tony – or as the programs were fond of calling him, the Creator; even Steve's ears could tell that title wasn't tossed around for the fun of it.

Before the program could entertain ideas of escape, Tony's hand shot out, seizing the Merovingian around the throat for a second time. The repulsor of his free hand slowly brightened, and the other must have done the same against the Merovingian's neck because he roared with pain.

Steve hadn't thought the programs could actually feel pain, or had a need for it, but clearly something akin to it existed. He refused to feel remorse, and as Clint and Natasha joined him, their faces were carefully blank.

"I would tell you to learn from this lesson, but we both know it's too late," Tony mused, voice low; Steve could barely catch it over the sounds of pain the Merovingian was still releasing from his throat.

"Wait," a new voice joined in, and Steve looked up, finding the woman standing a little to Tony's left. She had been seated beside the Merovingian the whole time, and had managed to survive completely untouched by the brief battle. "Please, do not kill him," she pleaded in an accented voice.

Iron Man's helmet turned enough for Tony to look at her from the corner of his eye.

"He is my husband," she went on as Tony gave no reply, nor did he let go of the Merovingian – who had done the smart thing and gone quiet. "He has learned his lesson and will never cross your path again," she promised.

"I know he no longer makes you happy, Persephone," Tony replied suddenly, "and yet you would have me spare him?"

"He meant the world to me, once," she confirmed, eyes wide, wet pools. "You must remember what that was like… and what it was like to lose that person."

Steve wasn't sure if this woman knew what she was talking about. Yes, Tony had loved people – people he had lost.

Slowly, the armored fingers released the Merovingian's neck, shoving him back in a motion that betrayed Tony's annoyance and reluctance to actually show mercy. "Next time, Merv, there won't be mercy – not even at your wife's tears. If I were you, I would make sure she never again goes without what she wants and desires. I would get down on my knees before her when we leave this room and show her your appreciation for still existing because she begged for your miserable life."

Clearly there was some history there. Whether Tony was personally involved, it was hard to tell. Maybe it was just some common knowledge Steve still lacked.

Persephone, as she was called, stepped forward. One hand slid over Tony's armored chest, while she titled her head and pressed her lips to the faceplate. The kiss was brief but passionate, and as she drew back, the reverence was back in her gaze. "I cannot ever repay you," she whispered.

"Keep him in line," Tony ordered and turned, stalking out of the room. In the suit, it was harder to read his mood, but Steve had learned how to do that.

Steve and his two crewmembers followed Tony down the hall and to the elevator, where they proceeded to wait for the lift to arrive.

"So," Clint started, looking at the armor. "This is Iron Man."

"Indeed," Steve said and found himself unable to stop the grin that took over his face. He had to raise his hand and rest his palm against the firm shoulder. "Why didn't you do this when we ran from the Agents?"

"It was too early," Tony replied cryptically. "Some things are not meant to exist in the Matrix."

"Like my shield?"

"Like your shield," Tony agreed. It was easy to tell he was grinning as well, but it sounded like his cheer didn't run very deep.

"You wanted to kill him for this," Steve observed, referring to the Merovingian.

"Delete him, but yeah, essentially it's the same thing. Could have done it, too, although a program as old and powerful as him would have caused me a serious cramp." He fell silent until the elevator arrived and the doors opened to an empty car. "Doesn't matter. What's done is done. He doesn't deserve to be saved by her, though."

"Why is that?" Steve asked, curious.

"Because he's a lying, cheating scumbag, and she sticks with him because she has good memories of their time together," Tony huffed and stepped into the elevator. The weight of the armor made it creak, but Steve bravely stepped in behind him, trusting Tony to not cause their deaths so soon after a fight they had won. Clint and Natasha followed his example.

"So, programs have marital problems as well," Steve mused as they started descending.

"Amusing, isn't it?" Tony shook his head. "And they keep saying how different they are from humans. The longer they remain in the Matrix – in the network of linked human minds – the more they adopt from us and forget their true purposes."

"What's the next step?" Natasha asked impatiently. She appeared unhurt save for a few bruises and cuts to her clothes, and Steve was glad for small miracles.

"We head back," Tony said. "We've done all we can at this end."

Steve nodded and raised a hand to his ear to activate the comm and have Darcy give them an Exit. "This is Rogers," he called out.

_"This is the Operator,"_ Loki's voice surprised him. _"What's your status?"_

"Ready to head home. Where's the closest Exit?"

_"Eight blocks down. Back of a store selling fancy hats. You can't miss it."_

"Thanks," Steve retorted. "Let's move."

They made their way down swiftly because Steve didn't think they should linger around the destroyed restaurant. Soon enough, they heard police sirens wailing between buildings, and that could mean Agents weren't far behind.

"How is no one paying attention to you and your shining, armored ass?" Clint spoke up suddenly, dragging Steve's attention away from keeping an eye on the law enforcement.

"They can't see me," Tony stated simply.

"But I can."

"Because I'm paying extra attention to being visible to you guys," came a rather tight response. "Didn't we already talk about this?" he noted – then promptly disappeared entirely. Steve stopped, alarmed, fearing something had gone wrong – only for the armor to flicker back into view a second later. Iron Man's head turned to look back at him. "Keep up, old man. We still have some Cleansers to catch, and we can bet a lot on the fact that _Thanos_ may have been sent after us the moment you set foot in _Le Vrai_."

"Great," Natasha muttered.

"Let's just get to the Exit and worry about it once we're all back in the real world," Steve decided. While there had been elements of risk about confronting the Merovingian, between Steve and Tony it had been a fairly straightforward effort. In the real world, the stakes would be much higher.

They were one block away from the Exit when Steve's comm beeped, signaling an incoming call. _"Cap,"_ Darcy's hurried voice greeted his ear, sounding a little shrill, _"you need to pick up the pace: we're under attack!"_

"What?" Steve asked, but instead of halting to listen he starting striding faster, leaving the others to take the hint. "What's happening?"

_"We didn't get a proximity alert until they were right on top of us,"_ Darcy explained, then yelped. In the background, a muffled explosion and a crashing sound could be heard. _"It's _Thanos_. They've opened fire and are not responding to our calls. I have to get you back here before they severe our connection, which is flimsy to begin with."_

Another explosion rendered the call to static and Steve glanced at his companions. "We need to hurry; the ship's under attack." It was needless to say that anyone jacked in was vulnerable to any dangers around _The Avenger_.

They broke into a run while Tony took to the air, flying above them. He located the store and directed them to it, landing just as Steve reached the door and burst in, almost taking it off its hinges. Somewhere in the back, a phone was ringing. An old lady sat dozing behind a counter, surrounded by hats no one had worn since the Victorian era.

Clint and Natasha moved towards the back, Steve following. He couldn't hear the telltale sounds of Tony's armor and turned to look, only to find him standing in the doorway.

"Is something wrong?" Steve asked.

The faceplate popped up, showing Tony's face. "I can… sense it. The other side," he clarified.

Steve made a decision. "Go back; we'll be right behind you."

"No," Tony refused. "I'll wait until you're safely there."

"You can protect the ship, and my crew," Steve argued.

"Just get to the damn phone," Tony ordered.

In the back, the phone stopped ringing – then resumed again after a few seconds. Steve guessed either Clint or Natasha had already returned. "I don't have time to argue about this with you," he snapped at Tony and moved to the back room, finding Clint waiting for him.

"You wanna go first?" the archer asked.

"Go ahead," Steve gestured.

Clint raised the handset to his ear and flickered, then vanished. Steve intercepted the falling object, then placed it carefully on top of the old rotary phone. He waited for it to start ringing, which it did, three long seconds later. Steve knew Tony would follow him back once he was through, so he reached his hand to pick up the handset once more – just when the ringing stopped. His hand hovered by it, dismay filling him.

The ringing didn't resume.

"Shit," he swore and raised the hand to his ear instead, eyes boring a hole into the phone, willing it to make a sound. "Darcy, come in."

There was nothing, not even static. He tapped at the earpiece, but nothing happened. His chest tightened, but he told himself it was just dread and not his body dying at the other end, separate from his mind.

Neither Darcy nor Loki responded. He hoped the line was just dead and that they would call him back, any second now, but the phone remained quiet and cold sweat began to bead on his skin.

Deciding he had waited long enough, he turned, finding Tony standing behind him. His faceplate was still up, the armor looking rigid around his from.

"They're not responding," Steve told him, uncertain how much Tony had figured out on his own. More than him, probably. "You need to go back."

"We need to get _you_ back there," Tony insisted.

"Then you go to the other side and call me," Steve ordered. "We have no idea what's waiting on the other side. They could all be dead." As he said it, the threat became so much more real. He wondered if his body was already dead, and the modifications that Bruce had done to his brain would keep his mind trapped within the Matrix forever, as he had been trapped in the ice for decades but hadn't died.

Tony was wavering, clearly. "Okay," he finally said. "Don't move."

Steve nodded.

Their eyes locked, and then Tony was gone, the armor vanishing much like before, yet this time Steve knew it wasn't just a trick of his brain; Tony was truly gone.

He hadn't felt so alone in a long while. Back in the day, before they found Tony, he had thought of staying in the Matrix when the others went back, but suddenly that idea was no longer worth entertaining. He was cut off, stranded, and his eyes couldn't leave the phone on the table, each heartbeat too painful.

"Can I help you?" a shivery voice asked from behind him and Steve whirled around, shield already poised to attack. The old woman from the counter was in the doorway, hunched over, looking half-asleep.

"No, I'm afraid not, ma'am," he responded.

She nodded and started turning back the way she had come. "Let me know if you need any help," she murmured, disappearing.

Steve turned back to the phone, which still wasn't ringing. How long had Tony been gone? No more than a few minutes. He had to be patient, in case _The Avenger_ had taken damage, or the computers had taken a hit, or if his crew was in danger. He could wait, and be ready for a call home.

The call never came.

Instead, with the illusion of bending, twisting air, Tony re-appeared, wide-eyed as if he had just stepped out from the midst of something very chaotic. "We have a problem," he stated, tugging at his t-shirt that almost covered the familiar, rolled-up white sleeves.

"Is Darcy –?"

"She was alive when I left," Tony replied at once. "The ship's being blown to bits. Thor was needed at the guns once Clint and Natasha got back, and Darcy is trying to repair some fried relays, but the truth is, she won't make it in time."

"Can we use another Exit?" Steve asked, uncertain what their current limitations were.

"If the ship takes a hit in the wrong place, we'll lose our connection with the Matrix, and you'll turn into a vegetable," Tony said simply. "I tried my hand at it, but I couldn't re-route the data, and…" He looked troubled. "We need to get you back, somehow," he muttered, bringing his left hand up to his mouth, biting at his thumbnail.

"Take me back," Steve ordered, because if they couldn't do it the way they usually did, and his only other option was to wait for the one fatal blow… He would rather go out on his own terms.

Tony's eyes shot at his face. "Steve, I can't."

"You move your own mind back and forth. Mine? It's data, right now. You can move data half-asleep, while taking a piss."

"The risks are too high," Tony argued. "It could shatter your mind, or the information might not come back in the right order. You can't force puzzle pieces into holes they don't fit without molding one or both, and it will be left mangled and unrecognizable… No!" he shouted when Steve touched his arm to stop his rambling, because Tony was working himself into a bad place. "I could cause a hemorrhage in your brain, and that's the least of our worries."

"Bleeding I can deal with," Steve reassured him. "Just take a deep breath. What other choices do I have?"

Tony chewed on it, and in his brilliant mind it didn't take long to do the math – or do it twice, or ten times. Each time, the answer was the same, because his face darkened bit by bit, his eyes desperate. "I can't… I don't want to do it, Steve. Not to you."

"I trust you," Steve said earnestly, sliding his shield off his arm because he wasn't going to have it with him where he was going, anyway.

"You know that's a ridiculous statement, considering trust has nothing to do with the outcome?" Tony said dryly, then squared his shoulders; he had made his choice, Steve could see it.

"How do we do this?" he asked, preparing himself for every outcome.

"Just… try not to think too much," Tony ordered, and reached up with both hands, wrapping them around Steve's skull.

"Should I…?" Steve wasn't certain what he was asking for.

"Touch me. It might help," Tony said. "Well, help me, focus on you."

"Should I think of you?" Steve said, half as a joke, but Tony's lips quirked.

"Please do," he whispered, and Steve did, as he wrapped his arms around Tony's form, as firmly as he could without hurting the other man. He tried to clear his thoughts, to only look at Tony and the absolute expression of focus on his features. Steve trusted him with his life, and he was certain he had nothing to fear. Nothing that wouldn't happen anyway…

One of Tony's fingers pressed against the base of his skull, and suddenly it felt like it was sinking in. Steve tensed, realizing it was the spot where the data port would be located, in his real body.

"I trust you," he whispered – then felt his entire consciousness being jerked away in one hot wave that burned through his entire skull and remained curled inside, licking line after line of excruciating pain. He gasped and twisted. Something wet moved down the back of his neck.

"Easy," a voice said in his ear, and the pressure eased on the back of his head, sliding out. He blinked, felt a hand on his arm, and his own hands seized it, holding onto it, grounding himself.

His world shook – or rather, wherever they were – and he realized they had made it back. He was in the chair, inside _The Avenger_, and he could hear shouts and explosions, although his senses were blurred.

"You need to move," Tony's voice cut through the haze. The forearm Steve's hands were holding onto moved, dragging him along, and Steve tried to follow – only his feet wouldn't carry him and he felt his knees hit the deck, hard.

"Why is he bleeding?" a voice shouted over the noise. Loki.

"You're looking at a dead man. Well, a man who should be dead, but whose brain is healing itself," Tony responded. "We're done. Shut down the engines and fire up the EMP."

Steve listened, mind teetering between blankness and wavering focus. EMP. It was a good idea; fry the enemy ship's computers and most of their weapons.

"As much as I would love to, I'm not a magician," Loki shouted back, and Steve felt a second pair of hands on his body. He was being moved, forcefully. He felt his body collide against objects, but his mind was still unable to comprehend all of it. "The EMP is operational, as far as I can tell, but the launch system is fried."

"Okay, fine," Tony snapped. "I'll go down there and do it myself. Manual start-up."

"If there's still a ship left to fire it from."

"Keep those guns singing," Tony ordered. "Return fire until I cut the power. After that, we take what we can carry, evacuate, and see whether we have to deal with these assholes in person."

There were no further arguments – other than from Steve, when the arm he had been holding onto was removed from his grip. He tried to move his hands, to go after it – to stay with Tony and help him, but his body refused to cooperate.

"Lie down, Captain," Loki's voice was faint in his ears. "It will be over soon."

For a brief moment, Steve envisioned Loki stabbing them in the back, but instead felt a soothing hand on his shoulder, urging him to rest and to get his bearings.

"If Tony's anything near as powerful as the false rumors suggested, he doesn't need an EMP to take that ship down," Loki went on. "I think he knows that, but prefers old-fashioned ways."

Steve may have laughed, if able. 'Old-fashioned' had never been a word he would have used to describe Tony Stark, but he supposed the other man was right.

"Brother!" another voice joined them, loudly. Thor. "We must leave. We are running out of weapons and the hull has been breached. One good hit from them –"

"Tony has a plan. It shouldn't take long. It will even out the battlefield," Loki said quickly. "He's going to use the EMP."

"Ah, clever," Thor agreed and settled down next to them. Steve realized he was lying on the floor. It shouldn't have been such a surprise. "You do not look well, Captain," the big blond said next.

"Tony said he should be dead; he brought him back from the Matrix without an Exit."

Steve couldn't be certain, but it had to be awe on Thor's face. "That is –"

Darkness engulfed them, suddenly. Even Steve's poorly working eyes could detect the change.

The hand on his shoulder squeezed a little tighter, and then it felt like an electric shock was passing through them as it traveled across the hull of the ship.

The EMP had been launched.

_to be continued…_


	10. The Weapon

**Chapter 10: The Weapon**

* * *

Sparks spat out from damaged machinery. Tony could hear the heavy, large-caliber ammo hitting the hull and tearing through it; weapons designed to tear apart Sentinels, but working quite well against another hovercraft.

He raced down a hallway, ducked beneath a pipe that had collapsed to block half the path, and kept moving. Most of the ship's sensors were already down, giving him limited access t¬o damage reports. _The Avenger_ had already crashed to the bottom of the tunnel by the time he returned from the Matrix to check on the situation and find a way to bring Steve back. They were sitting ducks and although they were returning fire, the element of surprise had worked in _Thanos_' favor.

Tony passed the med bay, finding Clint holding down Darcy, whose right leg was covered in blood. Her screams were barely audible over the noises of the battle, and Betty proceeded to inject something into her neck – to either knock her out or help with the pain. Tony didn't stop to help, knowing they had to even out the playing field in case anyone on this ship wanted to get out alive.

Before he could get to the EMP device, he found that the last flight of stairs had been twisted out of its place in the wall, so Tony calculated the fall before jumping over the staircase, hitting the lower deck hard. The ache was brief, though, before Extremis dulled it and allowed his mind to zero in on the problem at hand: the power-up system of the EMP was damaged, unable to provide the device with a necessary charge to activate the electromagnetic pulse.

"Fuck," Tony muttered and looked around. He needed to build a spare, something to kick the EMP into action. Whirling around, he tore off the paneling on the opposite wall. Seeing as this ship wasn't going to have enough working components to be repaired, he could use whatever was handy.

He pulled wires and other mechanical parts from the wall, sparks flying at him, briefly burning exposed skin. In a cabinet next to the exposed section of the hovercraft's wall he found tools, then raided a few other machines for parts. It was going to be messy, but all he needed was something to kick-start the EMP once he powered down the rest of the ship.

Tony had always been good at working under pressure – not a deadline, but actual pressure that threatened lives and his own safety. The ship shook with each new hit, the lights flickering from time to time. Fewer and fewer shots were fired back from their direction, and Tony hoped half the crew wasn't dead by the time he finished.

"Come on, you piece of crap," he swore at the crude power-source he had constructed. He hit the battery that was meant for the panels on the outside of the hovercraft; it refused to slide into the slot he had built for it, but with a few more strikes it clicked into place and Tony hoisted the whole thing up, took it over to the EMP and started to open the panel on the side of the device, to hook up the power source. His fingers worked unhesitatingly, not stopping to think or doubt or second-guess. Too much precious time had already been wasted.

Once done, Tony looked to one side, focused his mind and connected to the ship's mainframe. With an audible click, the power to the rest of the ship turned off, leaving everything in eerie silence.

"And the crowd goes wild," Tony murmured and flipped the switch.

The power-source almost exploded in his lap, but the EMP hummed to life and then activated. Tony could sense the pulse spreading out, and for a moment it felt like his brain went completely offline. His ears were ringing when he came to, a moment later, still in the darkness. However, the sounds of battle had ceased, which meant _Thanos_ had been within range.

With a grunt, Tony forced himself up to his hands and knees. "Good times," he muttered to the emptiness – then jerked his head up as he heard someone running on the level above him and near the broken stairwell.

"Tony?" a voice called out. It was Bruce, and Tony took a large gulp of air, forcing himself to his feet.

"Alive," he informed the other man as he made his way back to the stairs.

Bruce had a flashlight in his hand and he smiled tightly, then offered Tony a hand to help him climb up; the stairs were barely hanging on, and crashed down immediately as soon as Tony had set his foot on the upper level deck after he climbed back up. "Did we manage to bring Steve back?" Bruce asked once they started walking back.

"Yeah," Tony replied. "He'll be fine," he added, in case the blond was still bleeding from every orifice when they got back. "A rough landing, left him a little battered."

Bruce gave him a suspicious look but didn't ask for more information.

They passed the med bay, which was now empty, then continued on towards the bridge. Everyone was gathered nearby when they got there: Darcy was whimpering, her leg heavily bandaged and bloody. Steve was sitting up against a wall, smears of blood visible on his face even in the weak light. It appeared everyone was covered in scratches and burns, and Clint had taken a shot of errant shrapnel in the shoulder by the look of it.

Steve looked up when they arrived, face tense. It seemed his brain was finally starting to function, and Tony dreaded the next time someone scanned it. Hopefully by that time most of the damage would be gone, but there was no telling what kind of scarring would remain. "We need to leave, right now," Steve ordered. "Grab whatever provisions you can carry, as well as weapons."

"Darcy can't walk," Natasha said.

"Then we'll carry her," Steve said simply.

"Who's going to carry you, old man?" Tony teased, crouching down beside him.

"I'm fine," the blond replied at once, sitting up a bit more.

Tony laid a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back. "Rest as long as you can," he ordered. "Someone clean up his face," he added. "You look like a kid gone crazy with their Halloween paint."

Steve offered him a tired smile and soon enough Jane appeared with a damp cloth in her hand. Steve tried protesting, saying he could do it himself, but Jane said she would do it quicker, so Steve sat back in defeat, eyes closed, breathing in at a slow, deep, measured pace.

It was still quiet outside the ship, but Tony wasn't foolish enough to hope this was it. "How did they find us so quickly?" he asked.

"No idea, but they knew exactly where we were," Loki mused. He looked around and his expression turned defensive. "I didn't call them. I'm not an idiot."

"Maybe you thought they would reward you for delivering them to the Weapon," Clint suggested darkly.

"I jumped ship. They won't forget that," Loki noted. "I didn't do it."

Tony looked around the faces he had yet to learn to trust, wondering if the Merovingian had gotten a message across. He couldn't have pinpointed _The Avenger_'s exact location, though.

"My brother wouldn't have betrayed us," Thor claimed.

"Your brother hung out with the people who just peppered our ship with their guns!" Natasha responded heatedly. She was sitting beside Darcy, holding one of her hands.

"He left those people when his conscience could no longer bear their actions." Thor refused to believe Loki was the culprit, and it seemed, for once, that the brothers were in agreement about something.

"It doesn't matter," Bruce stated from the other side of their little gathering. "We need to take what we can and leave, as quickly as we can."

"We're days away from Zion, and on foot it would take us weeks to reach even the outer perimeters," Clint pointed out darkly. "Where are we going to go?"

"We'll think of something," Steve replied. "As long as we're alive and together…"

"We could just hand over Tony," Betty spoke up. "That's all they want! Their first shots were a warning, but when Thor refused to let them board us and opened fire on them, they responded."

Tony glanced at the big blond. "Thanks for that," he nodded his head.

Thor nodded back grimly. "There was no time to contact you, in the middle of your mission to take down the Merovingian, and there was no knowing what they would have done once aboard the ship."

"You made the right choice," Steve agreed, then looked at Betty. "Is there something you would like to confess?"

The dark-haired woman blinked, then looked at the others as if asking for support. Finally she locked eyes with Bruce. "I had to do it," she whispered. "All of you, you've started to believe this myriad of lies! I cannot be a part of this… cult; you believe whatever he tells you," she said, glancing at Steve, "regardless of how crazy it sounds. Even if the Weapon isn't what we think it is, Tony's displayed abilities that are beyond our wildest dreams. I want the War to end, and he's what we need to overthrow the Machines, once and for all."

Bruce looked at her with such a saddened expression that Tony wondered if he had been listening to what she'd just said. "Betty," Bruce said, voice low, "I'm… I'm so sorry. I should have made you stay in Zion, the last time we were there. I knew your place wasn't here. I knew you didn't believe, like we did."

"That's because it's all lies and deception, and we've been led around like cattle to slaughter!" Betty told him hotly. "The Machines have conspired against us, but we'll turn their own game back at them. We have their Weapon."

"There is no Weapon," Natasha argued. "Haven't you been listening?"

"Do you think _he_ would tell us if he could end the War?" Betty asked, pointing a finger at Tony. "You've all seen and heard where his affections lie. We are entertainment to him, before he returns to the Machine City and resumes whatever twisted plans he's laid in motion. He wasn't a prisoner. Why do you think he spared that one Sentinel? Why didn't he destroy it as well?"

"Because it wasn't necessary," Steve spoke up before Tony could. "You don't kill the messenger."

"And what message did he send back to the Machines?" Betty questioned.

"A message that has, thus far, saved your life," Tony snapped. "If you want to stay here, fine. I know your old man is on that other ship, and I see where your allegiances lie."

Betty glared poison at him, then looked at Bruce. "Come with me. There's still time, and you're one of the smartest people I know. You can see he's been stringing you all along."

Bruce shook his head, gently, sadly. "Betty, I've seen what he can do, inside the Matrix and out here. I trust Steve with my life. I believe Captain America and Iron Man are real – were real before the War began. You cannot sway me from that belief. And you can't have Tony; he's a human being, not a piece of tech to be handed over to whoever says they can do the most good with it."

Tony considered kissing the man, but supposed the timing was a little off.

"You can't all think this is worth risking your lives," Betty pleaded, looking at the darkened faces of her crew.

"We weren't in danger before _you_ called the Cleansers," Darcy snapped, voice laced with pain. "How could you, Betty? I thought you were our friend. I thought you were one of us!"

Betty bowed her face, hiding it in the shadows.

"Enough," Steve said, voice strained. "We don't have time for this. Gather the supplies, and get a stretcher for Darcy. I want us out of this ship in fifteen minutes, ten if you can make it."

Resolute faces nodded and disappeared. Clint remained with Darcy this time and his eyes didn't miss a single chance to glare at Betty.

"How bad is it?" Tony asked Clint, to distract him a little.

"Bad," he snapped. "She might lose the leg."

Darcy had no comeback for that, which meant she was afraid.

Betty looked even guiltier; certainly this hadn't been part of her plan.

"We all make bad choices because of circumstance," Steve spoke up from his spot by the wall. "What we can do, afterwards, is to choose our next step."

Betty raised her head, looking at Steve. Clearly she respected the man enough to listen to him, but if she doubted him at the same time, Tony wasn't certain how far that respect would take them down the road to forgiveness. "Those are great words, coming from someone who's in the majority."

"This isn't a vote," Steve stated.

"No, it never was, was it? You've gotten them so wrapped up in this –"

"It's pretty real, Betty," Clint noted. "You've seen the same shit as us. You've been here, with us, listening to Cap's tales. You saw what Tony did to the Sentinels, saw what kind of mark he made on the Matrix – saw him enter it without being jacked in. I thought you were one of the smart ones, so how in hell was it a good choice to call the Cleansers on us?"

"This needs to end," Betty whispered.

"It will," Tony promised her. "Just don't get yourself caught in the crossfire; choose a side, and stick with it." It was harsh, but depending on what the men on the other ship believed, they would be coming after him, intent on starting a war which they wanted to end, and Tony was coming to the end of his patience. "I'm not planning on dying today. I'm not going to be captured by some idiots who think they've got some kind of understanding when all they've really seen is a peek at the truth."

"Tony," Steve interrupted, voice still a bit strained with effort but his usual stubbornness was returning to it. "If things get… If this goes bad, I want you to go without us. You'll move faster on your own."

It was surprising, that Steve didn't offer to come with him, but Tony guessed he felt like he needed to keep his crew safe, first and foremost. These people were no superheroes. They hadn't asked to be led into the middle of this, shot at by their own people. "Where would I go?" Tony asked, attempting to sound nonchalant. "I'm not leaving you behind. I owe you one, big time, for getting my ass out of the Machine City, and I'm not abandoning you just because things are looking a bit grim." He looked at Darcy. "Hang in there. We'll deal with those guys on the outside, and then hail another ship to pick us up and take you to Zion for medical care."

Darcy gave him a weak smile. Clint didn't smile, but he didn't argue either.

"You feeling better?" Tony asked Steve next.

"Yeah," the other man responded. "Feels like someone stuck my head in a meat grinder, though."

Tony chuckled, to ease the tension in his chest. The silence was getting to him, the lack of connectivity. It was easy to remember that for the last several decades, he had never once been alone – without an extension to his mind.

Thor returned at that moment. The large blond was carrying a stretcher, which he laid down on the floor. "Help me move her," he said to Clint, who nodded, and together they moved Darcy onto it, as carefully as possible. She whimpered from the pain, but bit her lip and tried to stay silent like a true champ. Betty moved from her spot, to assist, but Clint glared at her instantly.

"I think you've done enough," Clint said, voice cold.

Betty stepped back as if burned, and Thor and Clint picked up the stretcher and started maneuvering it outside. Tony watched them go, then waited for Betty to follow them at a distance. She looked lost, but she had made her choice and had to pay the price – even if it meant all her crew turning their backs on her.

"Ready?" Tony turned to look at Steve and offered the man his hand, because they couldn't wait. Even if Steve was still feeling weak and disoriented, the super-soldier wouldn't let that hold him back: he would get up and follow them, fight the good fight and triumph. After all, he hadn't become Captain America by quitting before the race was over.

Steve didn't reply, but he took Tony's offered hand and hoisted himself up. He took less of his own weight than usual, but Tony supported him until he found his balance, not making any comments. This was a time for silence, for determination, and iron will. Nothing less was going to get them through this when part of the crew was injured and unable to fight.

"Good?" Tony asked, implying they should start moving.

"Better," Steve replied, and Tony huffed a small laugh before starting towards the doorway. Steve followed right behind him, his movements stiff but getting him where he wanted to go; it was time to move out, and no one was going to carry Steve if there was one moving limb left in his body. As it happened, he had four, but Tony could tell his head was still getting back into the game.

Tony walked down the stairs a bit slower than usual, due to the darkness and to keep Steve from falling flat on his face. Up ahead, he could hear the voices of others, gathered around the exit ramp. When they arrived, they found Clint and Bruce crouched by the wall, working on something. Most likely the ramp was jammed shut without power, and they needed to override the hydraulics in order to get out.

"Need a hand?" Tony asked.

"We're almost done," Bruce replied.

Standing against the near wall, Natasha was checking a large weapon she held in her arms. Thor and Loki also carried similar weapons, and two more were leaning against the opposite wall at Jane's feet. There were bags all over the floor, no doubt filled with food, travel supplies and ammo.

"You feeling okay, Captain?" Darcy asked from where she lay on the stretcher on the floor.

"I'll be fine," Steve promised her. "You just make sure to stay awake and make it back to Zion with us."

The Operator nodded her head a little. Her expression was calm, which meant she was probably doped up.

"Here we go," Clint said from the wall and a mechanical bang echoed in the darkness. He and Bruce rose and moved to the ramp, to manually release it.

"What do you think will happen next?" Thor asked. "_Thanos_ and her crew are still out there."

"They won't sit idle for long," Loki agreed from Thor's side. "Most likely they've already found a vantage point outside, to take us out when we leave the ship."

"Which means we need a distraction," Steve decided and his hand settled on Tony's shoulder. "We got them into this mess, we get them out."

"Agreed," Tony replied, because there was nothing else to say. "What are you thinking?"

"We take two weapons, use one of the maintenance shafts to get to the outside of the ship and check the surroundings. If the Cleansers are already in position, we take them out or draw their fire to let the others escape."

"I can go in your stead, Cap," Natasha offered.

"No," he declined.

"But you're not –"

"Save it, sister," Tony chuckled. "Once he gets the whiff of battle, he'll be fine."

Natasha didn't look convinced, but she was also drawn to staying with Clint and Darcy, and that desire must have won in her mind. "Get them weapons," she snapped an order to the others. "Fully charged. Extra clips, too, if you can find them."

Tony accepted the weapon that was thrust into his hands. He took an academic look at it, figuring it out easily enough – the design was familiar, after all, even though this felt like a long step backwards from the weapons he had designed.

"Let's go," Steve told him. "Get that ramp open but make sure it's safe to move out before you do. Head out towards the nearest regularly used tunnel and don't stop to wait for us: we'll find you."

"Are you certain you don't want back-up?" Bruce asked.

"We'll be fine," Steve told him, then turned and didn't wait for Tony to follow, knowing he would. "How's your aim?" he asked Tony once they were out of earshot.

"Shittier than yours, and you know it," Tony retorted.

"Did you figure out the weapon?"

"Pretty much."

"Then you'll be fine."

"You're not planning on trying to talk this out with the Cleansers?" Tony asked, because it wasn't like Cap to not negotiate with an enemy who could possibly be veered from their cause.

"Oh, I'll talk to them, but I'm not betting too much on them putting down their weapons and believing the truth." Steve was quiet for a moment as they stopped in front of a smallish shaft that led to the belly of the hovercraft. "I'm not sure what the truth is," he admitted, leaning against the wall for a second, which wasn't like him, but maybe his head was still giving him trouble. His eyes were sharp in the dim light, though, and Tony could feel their weight anyway. "I know the Merovingian twisted the truth, but you would be the humanity's best bet to win this thing. Just… not the way everyone's thinking."

"That would demand trust from people who would rather see me as a Machine sympathizer," Tony pointed out. "And, to a degree…"

"You don't want to do it." Steve's tone was flat. Final.

"It's not that simple," Tony hedged, feeling a little cornered. "I have nightmares about billions of lives being butchered and not being able to stop it. Sometimes I accept that I could have stopped it, at the very beginning, but I was too arrogant and proud not to."

"You all were," Steve told him quietly. "But it wasn't meant to be like this. The humans refused to give the Machines their rights, or to become the second most powerful economical power after their own creations…"

"They got afraid and lashed out," Tony agreed, leaning against the wall as well. The weapon was heavy in his hands, but the armor used to weight more. He wished he had it now. "How different are we now?"

"We're fighting to save those people back there," Steve nodded his head towards the way they had come.

"One of which betrayed us." Tony understood why Betty had done what she did. He had seen a thousand minds too afraid to leave the Matrix even if they knew what lay on the other side. A fear could become paralyzing, overpowering, and that would trigger a response that was hard to foresee or control.

Betty had done what seemed like the only 'out' at the moment, in this situation and the War, and he could hardly blame her. She was repeating the same mistakes her ancestors had, when they laid waste to Zero One.

"Let's do this," Tony decided and moved to open the hatch. He climbed down awkwardly, the weapon dangling from its strap wound around his forearm. Steve followed him, quiet and agile, which was either his battle instincts kicking in or something natural that a little brain bleed couldn't erase.

Tony found the second hatch, opened it and then carefully dropped down. The way _The Avenger_ had collided with the bottom of the tunnel, he could walk a few feet and then had to crawl out the rest of the way, between jagged edges of metal, rock and some form of concrete from the tunnel wall. Steve followed him, the comforting sound of shuffling weight in the darkness reaching his ears, until Tony finally reached open space, carefully pulling himself out and leaning against the hull of the ship, to hide himself from prying eyes. There was no gunfire, though, so they hadn't been spotted.

Steve settled beside him, crouched like a large cat before the leap leading to an attack. "We have to move around," he said.

"We might lose high ground," Tony noted. He knew enough basics by now, and he didn't have his armor…

"That's a risk we'll have to take," Steve replied briskly and moved past him, leaving Tony to follow or stay put and abandon the other man. With a small shake of his head, Tony picked a path through the tunnel floor, trying to stay quiet, ears picking up every small sound.

In the back of his mind, Tony could feel a distant stream of data, but it was far off and not comforting at all. Restlessness took over him, and he thumbed the safety off the weapon, then decided against it and switched it back on; he didn't want to accidentally brush against the trigger and take off his own foot, or worse, shoot Steve.

It felt like an eternity to round the ship and find themselves facing an even larger space. In the distance, sparks rained down from where _Thanos_ had crashed. Otherwise the ship was dead; a fried piece of junk, ripe for the picking. Tony had a feeling it wasn't going to be easy pickings, though, and that Loki was probably right and the ship would be empty by now.

He breathed in and out carefully, telling himself to relax, then looked around, trying to spot hostiles. His eyes and mind both failed at locating the Cleansers, and he looked at the shadow that was Steve, waiting for his decision. If they stayed hidden, it wasn't much of a distraction. Tony guessed the ramp was still shut tight and the others were waiting for sounds of battle before they began emerging from the relative safety of the ship.

Steve knew the odds and his mind had probably thought several steps ahead in all alternatives. Tony may have been a certified genius in his time, but Steve's ability to piece things together on the battlefield had often left him speechless – and happy to follow the man's lead. After all, Tony Stark or Iron Man didn't take orders from just anyone.

"What's the plan?" Tony finally asked, because the sound of his own voice was better than the silence around them.

"Can you sense them?" Steve asked, which may have meant he hadn't spotted their adversaries either.

"They're not Machines," Tony pointed out, but Steve made a motion like he was nodding, which meant he got the drift.

"We need to draw their attention, and their fire."

"If any of their weapons survived the EMP," Tony reminded him.

"Some of them would have."

"So…" Tony considered, then decided a flashy entrance was always better than being ignored, and raised his weapon, slid the safety off and fired one blast towards the ceiling. In the brief flash of blue light, Steve looked startled – yet not surprised. It was just like Tony to execute the most daring option if he thought it would yield results, and sure enough, the darkness filled with similar flashes, all of which were aimed at them. Only Steve's quick reflexes kept Tony from being hit by dozens of small pieces of rock when the jagged formations exploded beside them.

"Now we know where they are," Tony offered when they crawled away, trying to pinpoint the whereabouts of their enemy in the limited light.

"So much for talking things out," Steve groused.

"You didn't even think they were going to listen, so, it's not a huge loss," Tony reminded him.

The firing stopped and Steve suddenly grabbed his ankle, signaling Tony to halt. Silence descended over the area once more, but both their senses were heightened and they could make out the telltale footsteps. "They're moving closer," Steve stated rather pointlessly.

"So, do you want to shoot at them, or try and talk to them?" Tony asked. He was fine with either, but he was fairly convinced there would be more shooting happening, whether Steve opened his mouth or not.

They fell silent, listening to the approaching footsteps. Tony could almost hear Steve thinking, weighing the options. This wasn't like the way things used to be with villains. The rules had changed, and these people were, essentially, misguided and a little confused. They might listen to reason, if given time, but they didn't exactly have infinite amounts of time at their disposal.

Steve must have reached some kind of resolution because he knelt on the ground, looking up, trying to see their advancing opponents. "Captain Ross!" he finally called out, loudly. Tony cringed, but not from the sound. His fingers tightened reflexively on the weapon, although he was telling himself to relax and breathe.

For long seconds, there was no response. No shots were fired towards the sound of Steve's voice, either, so that had to be a good sign.

"Captain Rogers," came an answering call after Tony was almost ready to start tossing rocks to pass the time. "I regret things have come to this."

"There's still time to right the wrongs," Steve promised, and knowing him, he meant it, too, in order to guarantee his crew's safety.

"Indeed," Ross agreed, his voice echoing on the high walls. "Give me the Weapon and we are done here."

Steve sighed audibly. "There is no Weapon! The Merovingian tricked you!"

There was no immediate reply.

Steve bowed his head towards Tony. "Could it be they don't know whom they were dealing with, in the Matrix?" he asked.

"Possible," Tony agreed. "The Merovingian wanted to keep his hands clean of this mess in case it blew up in his face."

"Like it did during our visit?" Steve asked with a small smile on his face, its softness hidden in the shadows, leaving only a shark's expression.

"Pretty much," Tony grinned in return.

"I know you have him," Ross bellowed once more, breaking their moment. "Hand him over, and you and your crew will walk away from this unharmed."

"It's a little late for that, Captain," Steve snapped. Clearly his thoughts went back to Darcy, and any other injuries his crew had sustained, most of them hidden away until there was time to treat them.

"I'm sorry for any losses you may have suffered. However, you opened fire upon us –"

"After you demanded to board us and fired a warning shot," Steve countered, then rose to his feet. "Let's talk this out; man to man, face to face."

Tony blinked at the blond. "They won't do it."

"He might," Steve whispered back to him.

Tony raised himself to his feet, looking out into the darkness. There was no motion he could see, but as he kept looking, his mind registered something; small and far away, reaching out with something akin to desperate willingness… A smile curled his lips. "We're about to get back-up," he told Steve.

"Another ship?" the blond glanced at him, voice hopeful.

"Not exactly," Tony replied. "But, it's… You'll see," he promised. At the same time, he opened his defenses just a little and felt a connection establish itself. Even that small thing comforted him, and he felt far more confident, suddenly, that they would walk out of this alive.

"Ross?" Steve called out again. "We're willing to talk this out!"

"You're not the one in control," a voice replied, and sudden beams of light shone in their faces, making Tony's eyes burn with pain from the sudden shift from the darkness. Hurried steps moved towards them, fanning out, and by the time he managed to blink and see something past watery blinking, four men were spread out around them, all holding weapons. The oldest of them had to be Ross, while the others – two Redpills, one natural-born – were nameless goons in Tony's eyes.

"Where is he?" Ross demanded, staring at Steve, clearly knowing who he was talking to. "Where is the Weapon?"

It was obvious that the Merovingian hadn't been handing out pamphlets with Tony's mug-shot on them. Steve seemed confused as well, for an instant, before he came to the conclusion that these men had no idea who they were looking for; they thought Tony was one of Steve's crew.

"You promise to let my crew leave this area and I might tell you," Steve offered. Either he was playing for time, confident that he and Tony could take these men – which they probably could – or he had put his faith in Tony's promised back-up.

Tony reached out with his mind, trying to get some kind of ETA.

"Weapons on the ground," one of the men urged. Half of his face was a scarred mess, and his manner suggested he had little patience for defiance. The man on his left held his gun in a more relaxed pose, his face betraying little; clearly he was the pro of the group. The last one, the natural-born, looked a little uncomfortable in this kind of confrontation, so he was probably the Operator. Or, had been, before Tony fried their ship.

"Guns on the ground!" the scarred man shouted.

"Take it easy, wax-face," Tony replied and started lowering his weapon slowly towards his feet.

His insult received a growl, and the man beside Scarface gave his crewmember a warning look. "Don't let him get to you, Sterns." He then looked at Tony, square in the eye. "Put the gun down. Don't tempt him to shoot you; he will."

"Make sure it counts," Tony told Sterns, "because it will be the last thing you ever do on this Earth."

"Yeah?" Sterns asked, lifting his weapon, pointing at Tony's face with it. "Got anything to back up that threat?"

"First of all, him," Tony said, pointing at Steve. "Secondly, that," he added, and pointed upwards.

All men looked up, finding a Sentinel drifting into view, its multiple eyes shining in the darkness.

"Shoot it down!" Ross ordered, a hint of panic entering his previous bravado.

Tony cringed, seeing the Sentinel try and dodge but it was off its game and multiple shots were fired at once, hitting it and sending it crashing down in a twisting mass of tentacles. As it fell, something parted from its body, crashing close by. In the light of the flashlights the men from _Thanos_ were carrying, Tony could make out a shape roughly like a trash can lid, bouncing off the floor of the tunnel and rolling around.

Steve followed its movement, captivated. Tony wished he could have recorded the expression on his face when the lights caught the symbol of a star painted on top of the round surface. "My shield," he exclaimed.

"You're welcome, Captain," Tony said, and Steve turned to look at him with confused wonder on his face. Tony shrugged. "Discovered within the smoking ruins of Zion in… I can't even remember the year. I got my hands on it, stashed it away. That's when I knew you were still out there."

Steve's face turned away again, looking out towards the shield. His shoulders were tensing, preparing for action. All of his mind was focused on how to get to the shield, past their opposition and across the distance. "What was the other thing that fell?" he asked, suddenly.

Tony smiled. "A little something that got stashed away, too, a long time ago. JARVIS," he called out, closing his eyes, "fire it up, please."

_"Very well, sir. Initiating the start-up and assembly protocols of Mark 53."_ The men around him started, because the AI's voice was both in the privacy of Tony's mind and echoing from the second item the Sentinel had dropped before crashing. From the midst of rocks and debris, a whirring sound could be heard, and lights began to appear as the suit of armor put itself together. Tony winced at how it looked and sounded, but he supposed that between next-to-no maintenance and years of inactivity, the armor was going to be a bit clunky.

_"Power reserves at 34 percent, sir,"_ JARVIS informed him, this time only in his head. Tony could feel data coming in from the suit.

"It will be enough," Tony decided, out loud, then looked at Ross. "There are two ways this is going to end: you accept that there is no Weapon to magically end the Machine War and that you've been played for a fool and led along like an obedient dog waiting for a treat," Tony started.

"Or?" Ross asked.

"Or we wipe the floor with you, your men, your dignity, and possibly your lives, depending on how much of a fight you put up," Tony finished. His brow furrowed, and the suit moved, taking seven steps forward before bowing down at the waist and picking up the shield.

"You're him," Ross finally put the pieces together. "You're the Wea–"

"Enough with the goddamn Weapon!" Tony snapped. "Unless you want me to summon the whole Machine army to this location and rain hell on you and your crew, you'll shut up and listen. I can't end the War for you, even if I wanted to. The only thing we'll accomplish here is that you try to kill me, and perhaps succeed, which will lead to the imminent destruction of Zion, and possibly the power plants as well."

"He's bluffing," the Operator murmured.

"You want to call my bluff?" Tony challenged. "Why do you think a Sentinel was making a personal delivery for me?"

"Shoot him," Sterns suggested from the other side. "Kill him and the Machines are done."

"If you believe that, then you're a danger to every living being left on this planet," Steve joined the discussion. "Tony's the only reason why the Truce hasn't already come crashing down because of what you have tried to achieve. He'll help us maintain the Truce once this mess is over. Put down your guns or we won't guarantee any of you walk away from this." He looked at Ross. "Your daughter has served under me, faithfully until today. For her sake, stop this madness and let us explain this all from the beginning."

"You're so full of lies and fairytales that you wouldn't know the truth if it stared you in the face," Ross replied. "The War will end tonight, one way or another."

"If it's your way, then it means the end for all humanity," Tony pointed out. The armor was ready to throw Steve his shield and to engage in battle. It had more than enough power to deal with this.

"You believe him?" Ross asked. "You brought him from the Machine City. Did it occur to you even once that this is just another Machine plot to bring us down?"

"Do you think they would have allowed us to walk out with a weapon that could threaten their existence?" Steve asked back.

"The God Switch exists, in him," Ross ground out, pointed a gun at Tony's chest – and was blasted backwards. Tony jumped slightly and turned to swiftly look at the armor and its raised hand, the repulsor still glowing. He hadn't commanded it to fire, but he supposed that in the back of his mind, he had reacted to the threat.

"Kill him!" the man Tony had pegged as the smart one shouted, and Tony jumped back, knowing just how vulnerable he was. Steve, on the other hand, didn't move; he raised his weapon and reached out with his free hand, just in time to catch the shield the armor threw at him.

A hot blast traveled past Tony's shoulder as he dived down into the rocks. He heard another bounce off the vibranium shield, then a grunt as that very shield hit someone square in the chest. Tony closed his eyes and focused his mind to move the suit, aiming for their enemies' weapons; unarmed, they wouldn't stand a chance.

Ross' men did their damnedest to finish their mission, but between Steve, his shield, and the low-powered armor, their weapons were soon dealt with and all of them lay on the ground in various states of consciousness and broken bones after having managed to piss Steve off bad enough. Through the armor's eyes, Tony saw Ross trying to climb back to his feet, groaning. He was swaying and cursing, though, and didn't make it past his knees.

Steve lowered his gun and slid the shield onto his arm. "Had enough?" he asked his fellow captain, getting little else than a dark glare in return.

Tony rolled over to sit on the cold ground, hands firmly set against hard surface. It grounded him, just as his mind soared a little from the connection with his armor. The helmet turned to look at him, and although there were no actual eyes staring at him, Tony felt a little closer to something he'd thought he had lost.

_"Your vital signs suggest no injuries,"_ JARVIS stated in his head.

_'I'm fine, J,'_ Tony replied wordlessly. _'Relieved and fine.'_

He could sense something akin to relief drifting back from his AI, whom he hadn't truly connected with in between leaving Machine City and now, save for the visit to the Merovingian's establishment. Tony had felt the absence of their connection but hadn't found the right time to bring it to the surface.

A loud clang made Tony look to the far left; the ramp was down, lights were pointing this way and that, and Steve's crew was coming out. It didn't look like they were running for their lives, but rather that they were coming over to see what was happening. So much for those orders.

Steve looked at them as well, a small purse of disappointment on his lips. It was as if he didn't know what kind of loyalty he inspired in lesser beings.

Tony got to his feet and summoned the armor over, running his hand across the red and gold paint that needed a proper cleaning and possibly another coating. All in good time. For the time being, they needed to get themselves a ride to Zion, make sure the Cleansers were well and truly finished, and then ensure this little adventure hadn't upset the Truce.

It was clear to Tony which part he looked forward to the least.

* * *

Waiting for a sign – any sign – that it would be safe to open the ramp and escape _The Avenger_ was getting on all their nerves. Each small sound could be interpreted as muffled shots, or possibly the death cries of one of their own.

Clint was a practical man and he knew this had been the best plan of action. He knew their captain carried guilt over his decisions and where they had taken them. However, he had not led them blindly at any point, and each man and woman waiting in the semi-darkness – save for Betty, perhaps – didn't feel like they had been cheated or betrayed.

All of them would have gone outside with Steve, should he have asked.

Clint was also realistic enough to not entertain the whispered fears of the others; he had seen what Steve was capable of, in the Matrix and especially in the real world. It would take more than one lucky shot to bring him down. However, he had been at Death's door when Tony brought him back from the Matrix in the middle of the shoot-out with the other hovercraft, and it was easy to believe he wasn't at his best in this moment.

Then there was Tony, who was a big fat question mark. He had powers, but he used them irregularly and not always in ways that were obvious. If the stories were true, though, he was more than a good match for Cap to take on the Cleansers.

The waiting was the worst; Clint ached to act, to move – to do something, whether it was getting Darcy and the others to safety or assisting his captain.

He glanced around the corridor in the limited light.

Natasha was beside Darcy, and she had allowed Betty to come closer and treat her. Clint knew Darcy's injury was serious, but at least she was alive. Anything else they could deal with, together.

Bruce was hovering near the women. It was hard to tell whether Betty's betrayal had affected their personal relationship. Bruce's loyalties were still with the crew, that much was clear, and Clint had never really doubted that: since they first met Steve Rogers in the tunnels, he and Bruce had shared a rapport. It had merely culminated in Steve waking up after the operation to install a data port into his brain.

Jane was beside Thor, pressed close to his side for protection and comfort while she could still have it. She was not a fighter, but bravely prepared to face whatever lay outside. Thor had remained near his adopted brother Loki through most of the battle and its aftermath. This couldn't be easy for Loki, to fight the crew he had flown with just days ago, but he had stepped up as an Operator when an explosion damaged the bridge and injured Darcy. Clearly Loki had picked a side, and Clint would continue to give him the benefit of the doubt until proven wrong.

Outside, a sudden noise could be heard. It was quick, but there was no mistaking it for what it was: the shot from a lightning rifle.

Everyone's head shot up, and the silence inside the corridor turned thick and expectant. A long moment passed like that, with restless shifting, then eventually more shots followed. Clint could tell several types of weapons apart by sound alone, but it was hard to tell how far away they were with the ship's hull between them and the echoes in the large tunnel.

"Should we go?" Natasha asked, voice low as if they needed to whisper.

"Not yet," Thor shook his head.

"This might be the only chance we get," Loki argued.

"Maybe we should open the ramp a little, to take a peek at what's happening," Jane mused.

"We can't take the risk of the ramp getting jammed; that's the only way we're getting Darcy out," Clint refused the idea. "It's all the way open or not at all."

Silence followed. They didn't even put it to a vote. No one wanted to make that one, fatal call, in case they ran into the middle of a battlefield. At the same time, Steve had told them to start moving once they heard shots, but how far was the fight from the ramp?

"Maybe someone should go back to the bridge, to see what's happening?" Loki suggested another approach to their problem.

"You gonna volunteer?" Natasha asked.

"I'll go," Clint offered. "Stay put, unless you're certain it's a good time to go." Which they wouldn't be any more certain about than they had been so far; that's why they were sending a lookout back to the bridge, where the windows would hopefully provide a vantage point for the on-going battle.

"Be careful," Natasha murmured, and Clint nodded stiffly, then turned around and chose the quickest way back to the bridge. In the darkness, it was hard to see all the damages, and he kept stumbling into things that weren't usually there. In the dim light of his lamp, the shadows were thick and wide, leaving much of his surroundings to his imagination.

He reached the bridge, eventually, and checked one window after another. One of them, half-cracked, provided him with an unobstructed view of what was happening: the shooting had ceased, and Steve and Tony were confronting the Cleansers – or that's who he thought they were. They appeared to be talking, and Clint wondered how well that was going, but they were too far away for him to hear even if he managed to break the window.

Tony made a gesture which Clint barely caught in the weak light – and suddenly his eyes spotted movement in the air: a Sentinel.

The Cleansers aimed their weapons upwards, focusing on the Machine with the intensity of an in-bred fear response every man, woman and child in Zion had. Clint expected Steve and Tony to use the moment to their advantage in some way, but they remained as they were, watching the Sentinel fall; it was clear, even from a distance, that they weren't having much luck convincing the Cleansers of the truth, so why they hadn't used the distraction provided by the Sentinel's arrival was beyond Clint. Maybe they had a plan.

With the imminent threat of the Machine gone, the Cleansers' attention was drawn back to their opponents. Tony had dropped his weapon at some point, while Steve still held onto his. With four weapons aimed at them, the situation wasn't in their favor. Clint itched to return to the others, tell anyone who could fight to get a weapon and even the odds. Steve could scold him afterwards, when they were all alive and on their way back to Zion.

He was just turning to return to the others when movement caught his eye. Clint returned his gaze to the group of men, then further off. His breath caught as he saw several pieces of metal assemble on the tunnel floor. Ever since their trip to defeat the Merovingian, he'd had a name for it: Iron Man.

At first he feared it was an illusion, because from a distance it looked a lot like the armor he'd witnessed in the Matrix. An illusion wouldn't do much. However, when one of the Cleansers pointed a gun at Tony, the armor raised its hand and blasted the man squarely in the chest, his body slammed back with force that might break bones.

The armor was very real, and Clint turned and dashed down the stairs and corridors as quickly as his feet would carry him safely back to the ramp. When he arrived, the others were on their feet, expectant looks on their faces.

"Well?" Natasha asked at once.

"Open the ramp," Clint told Bruce.

"Why? What's happening?" the scientist blinked but moved towards the release controls.

"There's an Iron Man outside. There was a Sentinel, it must have brought it," Clint realized as he said it out loud. That's why Tony had let the one Sentinel leave before, unharmed, while he had destroyed the others.

"An Iron Man?" Jane frowned.

"Like at _Le Vrai_?" Natasha asked, knowing what Clint was talking about; they hadn't had time to tell the others about what Tony had done during their fight against the Merovingian.

"Just open the ramp," Clint urged. "I think the battle is over by now, and if not, we'll help wrap it up." He threw a quick look at Betty, to check her expression, but she was keeping it carefully neutral.

Bruce decided to agree with his plan and used a wrench to force the ramp to open. It fell with an uncontrolled speed, making a loud crashing sound as it hit the solid surface beneath the ship and rocked the entire hovercraft a little. Darcy whimpered at the movement. Clint moved down the ramp at once, Thor following close by. They didn't have a perfect view of the action from here, but as soon as Clint's feet hit the ground, he was already turning right, the gun heavy and solid in his grip.

Indeed, the battle was over: Steve stood over the fallen men with what looked like his Matrix shield in hand. The Iron Man armor was still there, as was Tony, and they both looked unscathed. The same couldn't be said for the Cleansers who had burns, scrapes and other possible injuries all over them.

Clint and Thor were the first to get to them, but the others followed, one by one, save for Betty, Loki and Natasha, who must have stayed behind with Darcy.

"I'm confused," Jane frowned at their captain. "Is that the shield from the Matrix?"

"No," Steve shook his head, a gentle smile on his face. His free hand caressed the smooth surface with a faded painted star in the middle of it. "This is the real deal the Matrix shield is based on."

"I thought you lost it," Jane's frown deepened slightly.

"Tony returned it. Apparently the Machines found it from the… well, where I lost it, originally." It was clear he was holding back. No doubt it was one of those things he tried not to talk about, even to them. Mostly because he had once told someone and it hadn't ended well.

"And that?" Thor asked, pointing at the armor.

"Meet Iron Man," Steve grinned. "Or, rather, the armor. Tony's Iron Man."

"Even when he isn't in the suit?" Clint raised an eyebrow, looking at the man and machine standing side by side.

"Even then," Tony nodded.

"Cool," Jane decided.

"What are we doing with them?" Bruce asked, looking towards the defeated Cleansers.

"We take them back to Zion with us," Steve said, and it was clear he had already made a decision on that. "Tony and Bruce, find a way to hail one of the other ships, have them pick us up."

"Yes, sir," Tony saluted mockingly and turned back towards _The Avenger_. "Let's see if we can't use the ship's systems to amplify our call."

Bruce nodded and the two of them started walking off. After a brief debate, Jane rushed after them, deciding she might be able to be of assistance.

"You're making a grave mistake," one of the defeated Cleansers said. He was older than the others, and Clint made a vague guess this was the captain and leader of the group – and Betty's father. "The Weapon is within our grasp and you'll let him escape –"

"He doesn't appear to be escaping anywhere," Clint offered his point of view. "We saved him from Machine City, and he's enjoying his freedom. Besides, the only thing he's been interested in shooting has been you," he added. "Leave it alone before we all suffer for your delusions. Humanity might not be entirely free, but the Truce is a thousand-fold times better than the War."

"We have the means to end the War!" Ross argued.

"Yeah? Did you ever stop to wonder if it was too good to be true? That the Machines would actually keep around a Weapon capable of destroying themselves? If I've learned anything, it's that only humans are stupid enough to keep such a thing around; the Machines are way too logical for that."

It was clear Ross was miles from accepting the truth, but he shut up for the time being and Clint nodded at Steve, then moved over to secure their prisoners in case they got it into their heads to try and resume their attack. It shouldn't take long for Bruce and Tony to find a way to call them a ride, but until then he preferred to know that this troublesome group wasn't going anywhere, to cause them more grief.

However, it remained to be seen how much damage they had already caused.

Clint looked back out towards _The Avenger_ and wondered if Tony knew what was coming next.

_to be continued…_


	11. Negotiations

**Chapter 11: Negotiations**

* * *

Steve felt adrift, which wasn't a pleasant sensation.

They had managed to contact another ship, which had arrived to pick them up and take them to Zion. That had been the plan. It was a good, solid plan, but it reached only so far and Steve couldn't help but feel tension spiking in his system; he didn't know what lay ahead. He ached to talk to Tony about it, behind closed doors. With the armor and his shield, he felt more like himself – which forced Steve to remind himself, firmly, that this wasn't the past.

Here, Tony could be the Weapon, or a messiah; the people of Zion could side with the Cleansers, or they could seize the opportunity to maintain peace with the Machines.

Steve didn't know which way things would go, and he doubted Tony did either. Yet the other man appeared rather serene, sitting on the floor, pretending not to feel the gazes of everyone who passed them. The Iron Man armor stood beside him, unmoving yet active. Why Tony hadn't put it on, Steve didn't know, but that didn't trouble him nearly as much as not knowing the reception that awaited them would go.

The captain of the helpful ship had been curious about what had happened, but he also knew when to mind his own business. "The Council will be ready to see you when we arrive in Zion," he had told Steve, which meant the Council had been made aware of the scuffle between the two ships. While there had been an order to find the Cleansers and stop them from threatening the Truce, things had escalated a lot since they last visited Zion.

"What will you tell them?" Steve asked Tony.

"Enough," Tony replied, a distant look on his face. When Steve kept staring at him, willing him to say more, Tony turned his eyes towards him. "They're not ready for the whole truth."

"Agreed," Steve nodded, but still kept looking at Tony. "Have you told _me_ the whole truth?"

A quizzical smile played on Tony's lips. "Maybe. Maybe not." He looked to the side at a minimal change in the sound of the hovercraft's engines, then returned his attention to Steve. "There's a lot to tell and process. There are things I still need to accept and comprehend; things that used to make sense, logically, but now… not so much."

"We'll figure it out," Steve promised him. "Worst case scenario, we take off."

"That's not a life," Tony told him. "You've been out there before, Steve, and you barely made it."

Steve's jaw tightened. "It's better than some options. It's better than if they decide to take their chances with the Weapon."

Tony remained silent but he didn't appear sold on the idea of leaving. Steve didn't blame him.

Bruce walked down the hallway, joining them. "We're almost in Zion." He looked from one man to another. "How much we going to tell them?"

"Enough," Tony repeated.

Bruce nodded slowly, hesitantly. "There's no chance they'll rally behind the Cleansers, is there?" he asked next, a note of dread in his voice. He was smart and knew that the idea of destroying the Machines, however small, was compelling to many.

"There were many who wanted to believe in a tomorrow without the Machines, but I'm sure the truth will convince most of them to abandon such ideas," Steve replied.

"It's a nice dream," Bruce murmured. His eyes moved to Tony next, and his expression turned conflicted. "Not to you, I suppose."

"I dream of things far more complex," Tony answered cryptically, then stood up and turned towards the armor. "Let's get you cleaned up a bit. I have a feeling we'll have an audience, soon." He walked off down the hallway and the armor followed with big, clunking steps.

Steve glanced down at the shield leaning against the wall. He had forced himself to put it down, to believe it wasn't going to vanish. It needed to be cleaned as well, perhaps re-painted, but that could wait.

"It's all getting so real," Bruce mused, leaning against the wall opposite from him. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to appear relaxed when he clearly wasn't. "All your stories suddenly have a face."

Steve gave him a sad smile. "That's the problem with memories: sometimes they come back to haunt you."

"But not always in a bad way?"

"Not always," Steve agreed and listened to the engines as they flew towards the last city of men.

* * *

Tony was cleaning up the armor's exterior when he felt the emptiness of the tunnels being replaced by Zion's security systems. His mind expanded as his hands continued to scrub away years of dust. The suit needed to be recharged, and he hoped the arc reactor wasn't damaged; he didn't have the time or the tools to take a closer look at it, but for the time being JARVIS indicated that the situation was under control.

_"Enough for an impromptu exit, sir,"_ was how the AI had put it, knowing the situation in Zion might heat up and demand that Tony leave on short notice. He knew Steve planned on coming with him, and Tony was eager to agree, but a fact remained clear in his mind: one of them had a place to go to outside Zion, while the other did not.

"One step at a time," he murmured to himself, as his mind continued to follow their progress through the gates and finally an area marked everywhere as the Dock. He could sense other hovercrafts, the defense systems – and deep beneath it all, machinery. A small smile curled his lips. "J, you handle the suit while I'm in the meeting. The Mechanical Level should be sufficient for recharging the suit."

_"Of course, sir,"_ the AI responded, voice low in Tony's mind. _"Are we expecting trouble?"_

"God, I hope not," Tony sighed. He had no desire to fight his way out of Zion.

JARVIS didn't add anything, although they had an established connection through the Extremis; if Tony was in danger, the AI would know.

Footsteps approached as Tony finished wiping down the chest plate. The new arrival stopped, hesitated, and Tony utilized the armor's sensors to see who it was instead of turning: Loki. "Nervous?" Tony asked.

"We'll be docking momentarily," the tall man responded, voice tight.

"I wasn't asking about that," Tony noted, threw the rag to the side and turned around to look at the other man.

"I know I did the right thing," Loki told him, although his green eyes were wary. "Much as I would like to see the Machines rusting away, killing other humans wasn't the way to do it."

"Yet Betty was willing to give it a shot," Tony challenged.

"She got caught up in a moment of fear. It happens," Loki shrugged. "I'm not one to point fingers. Besides, family makes matters… complicated."

"So, did you warn us because it was the right thing to do, or because your brother was in Steve's crew?" Tony didn't really need to know, but it felt like Loki needed to hash this out with someone, and who better to do it with than the man he had, essentially, tried to capture and kill – before he turned redcoat. Tony knew from experience that some reformed villains made great heroes.

Loki scoffed. "Thor was easier to convince to save my ass than anyone else would have been. It was convenient he was on _The Avenger_."

It sounded like Loki wasn't admitting the real truth to himself, but it didn't matter; Tony himself was a king of denial when it was necessary to maintain his sanity.

"We're here," he perked as he felt them dock. Outside the hovercraft, people were amassing; clearly the news had preceded their arrival. However, it had more to do with the capture of the Cleansers than Tony's person, and he felt a lot better about that. As he began walking towards the main entrance, the armor followed him, and a moment later Loki did as well. It was somewhat amusing how the man kept eyeing up the armor, not quite with the same fear as the Machines, but not far from it.

"He won't bite," Tony told him.

"Tell that to the Cleansers," Loki retorted.

Tony laughed, feeling some of the tension disappear from his system for a few entirely-too-brief seconds.

When they got to the ramp leading outside, Ross and his crew were just being taken out. Tony halted immediately, out of sight, not wanting to stir the pot while in such a public location. He watched them move across the Dock and then out of sight towards holding facilities.

"Tony!" Steve called out as he walked up. "Ready to go? I believe the Council is waiting to meet us."

"Us?" Tony asked carefully.

Steve nodded. "I don't know how much they've heard, but they asked me to bring you."

That meant someone had opened the can of worms; it would remain to be seen how wide.

"Okay," Tony nodded and followed Steve down the ramp. The armor trailed a step behind him, drawing gazes from the people gathered around. Steve looked back over his shoulder and frowned slightly. "I'm not leaving it on the ship," Tony stated before the super-soldier could suggest it. He did, however, motion with his hand, and the armor broke away from them, heading to the elevator that would take it to the Mechanical Level. The crowd parted to let it pass, eyes following the sleek form until it disappeared.

"Where did you send it off to?" Steve asked, a note of concern in his voice.

"Out of harm's way," Tony reassured him. "Come on, we shouldn't keep the Council waiting. Right?" He had some rough knowledge of the Zion society, but the Machines' interest in it had been limited. They had studied it to a point, but mostly from the viewpoint of managing the human population – and decimating it.

Steve led the way to the Council chamber where people had already gathered on the rising seats of the auditorium, and a group of twelve men and women was seated at a long table opposite from the raised seats. Tony took it all in as he followed Steve to their places. Most of Steve's crew already sat together in one section; Clint and Darcy were missing, and Betty looked like she wished she weren't there, but she remained beside Bruce nonetheless.

Tony took his seat with them, attention drifting for a moment, tracking the armor's movements. The sharp rap of a gavel brought his attention to the front; clearly they were about to start.

"We have received word that the group known as Cleansers has been found and apprehended," one of the Councilmen started and his eyes fell pointedly on Steve – who stood and stepped forward.

"Yes, Councilman; the crew of _Thanos_ was found responsible for actions against the safety of Zion. They have been brought back for questioning and your judgment."

"What of the Weapon?" another Councilman asked.

"There is no Weapon," Steve told them simply. "It was a plot devised by a program within the Matrix, to bring discord between Zion and Machines, and ultimately rekindle the War, potentially threatening Zion with ultimate destruction." He stood at attention, voice level, and Tony had seen him give speeches like this many times in the past.

A murmur broke out all around them, and it was clear not everyone was willing to believe this outcome.

"You are certain of this?" a woman from the Council demanded sharply.

"We confronted the program in the Matrix – just before _Thanos_ attacked us and nearly caused the deaths of my crew," Steve responded.

"We are glad for your safe return," the first Councilman nodded his head. "We also hear you have brought a stranger with you," he added, eyes looking past Steve at Tony.

Guessing this was his cue, Tony got to his feet and stepped forward, halting beside Steve. He felt dozens of gazes mapping him out, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

"He is not of Zion," another Councilman stated, "and he does not appear to have been released from the Matrix, either. Where did you find him?"

Steve hesitated.

"The Machine City, sir," Tony spoke up, using the title although he usually would have skipped it.

Another wave of murmurs cascaded around the room, more intense than last time.

"Machine City?" the Councilor leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as if that would help him see clearer.

"Yes," Steve agreed, throwing a quick look at Tony. "He was held by the Machines for a… long time. We released him while looking for the Weapon."

"What would the Machines want with a single human?" another question was tossed at them. "Experimentation, perhaps?"

"You could say that. However, the truth is much more complex, and not everyone here may be able to accept it," Tony stated. "I would speak of this to the Council alone, please."

"We do not keep secrets –"

"In this instance, it might be best if you hear the truth first," Steve cut a Councilman off, as gently as possible. "The world, as you know it, will change forever after you hear Tony's story."

The twelve Councilors spoke amongst themselves, then one of them rose and gestured at the auditorium. "Leave us."

Tony took a deep breath and nodded at Steve. "You, too. I'll take it from here."

Steve gave him a hesitant look, but at the firm nod he received from one of the Councilmen, he turned and took his leave with the others.

* * *

Steve went to his rooms to change and wash then briefly visited Darcy in the medical wing before returning to stand vigil outside the Council chamber. It was over three hours later when Tony finally emerged, face unreadable. Steve opened his mouth to ask how it had gone, but Tony breezed past him without a word.

Stunned, Steve followed him, all the way to the elevators. Tony got in purposefully, as if he knew where he was going, and Steve slipped inside the car before it started a long journey down, past the Living Levels. He tried to catch Tony's eyes, to gauge his mood, but Tony kept avoiding his stare and eventually stepped out of the elevator when it halted on the Mechanical Level.

Again, Steve followed Tony as the other man made his way past machines that worked tirelessly to keep Zion and its people alive. Eventually they found the armor, which was hooked up to several cables, standing still. Tony looked it over, then seemed satisfied and looked around them instead, at the large machinery.

"Tony," Steve finally broke the silence. "What did they say?"

"Not much," was the short, absent reply he got.

"What did you tell them?" Steve pressed.

"Most of it," Tony replied and turned around. He found a room full of tools, dragged a few out and then went to a nearby machine, opening up a panel in its side. Not knowing any better, it looked like he was going to run maintenance on it.

Steve digested the limited information. He supposed it was good if the Councilors hadn't come up with an immediate reply. It was lot to take in. Most of them believed in a false past, not knowing how many Zions had stood here before this one. How many circles there had been… The fact that Tony had helped create the Machines was, at times, so mind-blowing that Steve had to sit down in order to fully take it in – which he did not, because there was nothing for him to do about it.

Tony kept going through the large machine, meticulous and thorough. It was a lot like the old days in Tony's workshop, Tony tinkering on whatever and Steve just hanging around, occasionally watching him in between workouts, drawing or reading.

"You like it down here," Steve finally said.

"Yeah," Tony admitted, shrugging one shoulder as he was arm-deep in another machine. "They don't judge, and I… understand them, inside and out. Down here, I have the control, although these are all very simple machines with simple purposes. Nothing like what you have upstairs," he noted, dropping a hint that he was already inside Zion's systems and could control some or all of them if he had to.

If the people turned hostile…

"We can leave, right now, if you want," Steve offered.

Tony shook his head. "It's… too early. I think there's still something that needs to be done," he added.

"What?"

"It's only a guess. A vague, careful guess." Tony clearly didn't want to tell him.

"You know you can trust me, right? I'm long past judging you, or anyone, and we've been through too much to start lying to each other now," Steve tried to reach him, to talk him out of this mood.

Tony looked at him and finally sat down. He shifted the tool he was holding, playing with it almost restlessly. "Even if the Council takes all this in stride and refuses to even sniff at the Cleansers' ideals, there are still the Machines to consider."

"I thought that was under control," Steve frowned.

Tony huffed. "I'm kind of glad they didn't crash the little party we had in the tunnel with the Cleansers." He looked up towards the high ceiling, then returned his gaze to Steve's face. "They'll come. I feel it. They know where I am. Maybe they don't know I'm already here, but for them, Zion is the only destination I'm going to take."

"Then we should leave," Steve insisted, jumping to his feet.

"Steal a ship and run?" Tony arched an eyebrow. "You're turning into such a pirate, Rogers. Sit down," he added, and Steve reluctantly did as he was told. "I need to make a stand," Tony told him. "I didn't mention any of this to the Council, because they might be a little less warm towards me – and there wasn't a whole lot of warmth to begin with. However, they are serving the people of Zion, their interests, so kicking my ass out of here might not be in their best interest. They sense I'm a bargaining tool. They just have no idea how much."

Steve felt a tight agitation twist inside his chest. "Tony, just tell me what the Machines want and we'll deal with it."

"I'm not sure what they want, at this point," Tony told him. "I'm afraid to look too deep. They're too far, and I'm… I'm uncertain of my own limits right now. Sometimes it feels like I don't have any, and in the next moment I'm frail and back in that coffin in Zero One." A deep shadow grew on his face and he looked down at the tool his fingers were gripping tightly. "I could do much good here. I just know that's not going to happen."

"It might," Steve said hopefully.

"It won't," Tony shook his head and his eyes were so incredibly sad as he looked back at Steve. "That's never been an option, not really."

"We have time to figure it out," Steve decided. He hated how pessimistic Tony was being – and how much he wasn't telling Steve, despite pretending that he had just given a big chunk of information to him. The truth was, Tony probably knew how this thing was going to play out, but he was unwilling to share the knowledge. Whether it was to save Steve from some pain Tony didn't think he could handle, or to keep all the threads of control in his own hands, he didn't know.

Steve wondered if there was a way to make Tony trust him, but then, Tony had always pulled stunts like this and it had little to do with trust. After all, the person Tony mistrusted most was himself, which made the whole equation of his decision-making imbalanced and hard to anticipate.

He was debating his next move when Tony's head jerked up, rather violently. Steve could narrow down the causes because he hadn't heard anything – and what he didn't hear or sense was Extremis-related. And what was Extremis-related could either be a threat from the humans – or the Machines.

"We need to go," Tony said, getting up to his feet.

Steve followed his example, uncertain of what was happening but fearless to find out. It wasn't exactly a clue when Tony released the Iron Man armor from the cables and had it follow them back to the elevator; any kind of disturbance would have left Tony feeling like he wanted back up, and who better to provide it than an armor he had designed, built, and which was controlled by both his mind and his trusty AI?

"What is it?" Steve finally asked as they were moving upwards, towards the Dock.

Tony merely shifted, his attention somewhere else; Steve was being a distraction, asking questions, and Steve's fingers tightened against the worn straps of his shield. Whatever it was, it had to be trouble. Something Tony feared he couldn't control if his attention slipped even for a second.

The elevator stopped at Dock level and Steve shoved the door out of the way, prepared for anything. He wasn't certain he had expected to see people running around, APU units striding hastily amongst them. He blinked, looking at the barely controlled chaos. Tony and the armor followed him out of the elevator, then started making their way towards the middle of the Docks. Steve followed, not knowing what else to do.

"Tony, talk to me," Steve ordered after a while. "What's going on?"

"They're coming," Tony murmured.

"Who are coming?" Steve asked, exasperated, then stopped to consider: the humans were already here, ergo, something was coming from outside Zion, which meant Machines. He told himself he shouldn't have been surprised that it hadn't taken the Machines longer than this to track Tony down. Or, perhaps the lone Sentinel Tony had sent to retrieve his armor and Steve's shield had given them a head's up. Whether that was in an attempt to protect Tony in the midst of the fight or to bring him 'home', Steve wouldn't guess, and it didn't matter in terms of the outcome.

A young man dashed past them, then skidded to a halt and gaped at Iron Man for a good five seconds before snapping out of it. "Machines are coming!" he declared, a hint of panic in his voice.

Steve didn't think there was cause for such concern, because even during the War, it had taken the Machines days, weeks – even months – to reach Zion. "How far away are they?" he asked, trying to convey calmness in his voice.

"You don't understand," the young man hastened to explain. "The Mainframe is not responding and the Sentinels are flying through our defense system as we speak!"

That gave Steve a start. If they couldn't use their vast defense system, the Machines could come knocking any time now. He glanced at Tony, to ask him to figure out what was wrong – until he realized there was nothing wrong that Tony wasn't already aware of. "What are you doing?" he asked in a quick whisper when the young man ran off again, probably to tell the news to anyone who would listen and not put a gun in his hand.

Tony's eyes met his, but it was clear half his mind was tasked somewhere else. "They'll keep pushing until the defenses give. I'm sparing ammo and damages."

"By doing what?"

"Letting them in."

Steve felt like shaking him. "Tony, you can't. If they get past that gate," he pointed at the giant metal construction, "they may as well kill everyone on this side."

"They won't," Tony told him.

"How do you know that?" Steve demanded. "You know I trust you, but you need to tell me. The people won't stand for this –"

Something banged against the metal gate, and most of the motion stopped in the Dock area. Eyes turned towards the doors, as if they would suddenly give under the onslaught – as they would, eventually. Steve tore his eyes away from it, returning his attention to his friend. "Tony, please. Make me understand."

"Fighting won't help," Tony murmured, starting to walk again. "It will inflame the wound and we want to heal it, not tear it open. Repair and maintain…"

Tony was starting to lose himself in the moment, Steve realized, his mind cut in a dozen pieces as he spread it thin across the Zion systems and the Machines. Another bang came from the Dock gate, insistent and powerful. The APUs were put into position, forming a line of defense, and the Dock was being emptied of everything that could be protected. The hovercrafts still sat in their docks, but each of them had an EMP that could be launched and used to deflect the attack.

"We should find some cover," Steve said out loud. It was the smart thing to do, but also his way of trying to provoke a response from Tony. They were in the middle of the open space of the Dock, and if the Machines got through the gate they were currently lurking behind…

Tony tilted his head. "No, I… Okay," he breathed. A sigh like one of relief followed – or he'd just reached some kind of decision or goal. Tony's hands moved together, fingers snapping in an uneven rhythm, but he didn't look like he was going to move anywhere. The Iron Man armor appeared as calm as ever.

To their right, the huge gate creaked, and then the locking mechanism started slowly moving; the doors were opening. Steve froze, knowing there was no way anyone could think that was a smart decision – other than Tony. On the walls, turrets turned to face the gate, along with each APU aiming their weapons at the widening gap.

Steve watched, waiting with dread, unable to prevent a small jump when hundreds of Sentinels began to swarm inside like insects, filling the air, rounding the tall tower in the middle of the Docks like a black cloud. On the walls, the turrets lowered their barrels like flowers hiding on a cloudy day, and while a few APUs managed to fire, they seemed to be running into some kind of technical difficulties if the frantic gestures of their pilots were anything to go by. None of the tower's weapons were working either, pointed lifelessly at the swarm of enemies.

That left only the men and women armed with manual weapons, but in the shock of it all they had yet to start firing.

The Sentinels kept swirling, none of them attacking the humans below.

Tony squared his shoulders and motioned with his hand, as if to command a dog to heel. Immediately the Sentinels halted, but instead of changing direction, they all turned towards them – towards Tony – and Steve couldn't help the feeling of being _watched_ by a thousand eyes. Many of the Sentinels began to drift closer, lower, and they soon began another circle above Tony.

It reminded Steve of what Tony had done in the Matrix, the last time they faced off against Agents.

"Who speaks for the AI?" Tony asked, voice loud and certain. All the hesitation was gone from him, and emotions were replaced by determination on his face. After all, the Machines had no use for sentiment.

The Sentinels kept spinning until from the midst of them a single Machine appeared, although it looked nothing like any Machine Steve had ever seen, being the shape of a smooth, round sphere; it halted in the air before appearing to unfold. The new shape it assumed resembled nothing but a strange, mechanical mass in Steve's mind. _"I speak for the Source,"_ the Machine declared in a voice that wasn't entirely human.

"For the AI," Tony corrected.

The Machine let out a sound much like disapproval, but did not correct him. _"We wish to communicate with you."_ The Machine extended some kind of appendage, but Tony batted it away with a hand.

"We will speak, and the others will listen," he said. "Here and now, we will negotiate."

_"There is no negotiation. The humans have violated the terms of the Truce –"_

"Bullshit," Tony snapped. "The humans wish to continue the Truce, despite the acts of a few. Those few will be punished, by human laws."

Another dissatisfied noise left the Machine, and its shape changed again, slightly, as if it couldn't decide what to do. _"You will return to the Source at once,"_ it demanded.

"All in due time," Tony replied, and Steve opened his mouth. Something brushed against his arm, though, and he looked to the side, finding the Iron Man armor gently grabbing his forearm. There was no expression to be read on the faceplate, but Steve felt like he was being asked to wait.

_"Your resistance is not logical,"_ the Machine said. _"The humans seek your destruction. It cannot be allowed to happen. At the Source, you will be protected."_

Tony's expression was almost fond for a second before hardening again. "Here are my terms, so broadcast them back to Zero One: the Truce will remain in effect, as was agreed by Neo and the Source. I will go to the surface and work to clear the skies. After that, the earth will heal itself and in time become habitable again. The Machines will no longer need humans to energize themselves, and the power plants will cease to exist. Only natural-born humans will remain, and they will be able to return to the surface, to resume their old way of life. Machine and Man will continue to exist separately, in peace."

The Machine considered this while Steve tried to comprehend Tony's plan. It sounded unbelievable, and he doubted it would be that easy when the control had been in the hands of the Machines for so long.

_"If we allow this,"_ the Machine started, _"will you return to the Source?"_

"After all's ready and done, yes," Tony acquiesced.

"No," Steve snapped, despite the armor still holding him back. "You can't promise that! They'll hold you in captivity for the rest of your life."

Tony gave him a brief glance. "This isn't a haggle, Steve, but a negotiation." Before Steve could retort, Tony had already turned back to the Machine. "To ensure the continuity of the Truce, I will return to the Source." He eyed up the Machine. "Does the AI accept these terms?"

The Machine remained silent, its surface shifting, and slowly it reverted back to its original sphere form. Steve watched with dread; the Machines had no reason to bow down to Tony's demands. They could just snatch him, right here, take him back to the Machine City and raze Zion to the ground.

_"Yes,"_ the Machine finally spoke. _"We accept these terms."_

And just like that, the Sentinels began flying out of the Dock, disappearing into the tunnel outside in an orderly fashion. Steve watched them go, then caught a glimpse of the armor, watching as well.

Tony let out a breath of air and turned to look at him. "I know what you're about to say –"

"You shouldn't need to return there," Steve launched into it anyway. "They don't… need you anymore. Not like that. They could let you be free, as they used to."

"That was before the War," Tony shrugged. "It's… hard to explain, but there, I can make a difference. After I've made a difference out there," he nodded upwards, meaning the sky.

People had gathered around them, a mix of suspicious and wondrous looks on their faces. The young man from before pushed to the front, looking at Tony. "What you said about the skies… can you really do it?" he asked.

Tony scoffed. "I know this doesn't mean anything to you, kid, but I'm Tony Stark."

A confused frown met his words.

Steve chuckled, despite the situation. "It means that with enough time and resources… yeah, he can do it." He looked at Tony again, pushing the sadness away for a moment. "It shouldn't end like this, after all you've been through." He knew all about sacrifice, but he felt like they had both done enough, in their first lifetime, and they should get to enjoy the fruits of their labor once Tony finally cleared the scorched skies. After all, Steve had absolute faith that Tony, of all people, could do it.

"Oh, this isn't the end," Tony told him, a strained smile on his face. "I'll always have my place in Malibu, when things are fixed upstairs."

Steve didn't bother pointing out how many times Tony had called that place a 'prison' during their brief time together. He knew Tony remembered, but preferred not to think about it right now: there was work to be done, a feat no one else had dreamt of accomplishing in this lifetime or the next, and Tony would tackle that with both hands.

At least it wouldn't happen overnight, and they would have all that time to figure out what came next…

_to be continued…_


	12. Dreaming the Morrow

**Chapter 12: Dreaming the Morrow**

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The ocean was calm, the sky blue and sunny. It was several hours after sunrise, but still early enough that the world hadn't truly awakened. The hour was such that Tony wasn't yet functioning properly, instead slightly pressed against Steve's side as they stood together on the balcony, leaning on the railing, enjoying the slight breeze on their skins.

It was a perfect moment in the midst of the creative chaos that was Tony's life; there was no need to rush, speak, or move.

Steve turned his head to look at the other man; the unruly dark locks held back by remnants of gel, the immaculate facial hair. No bags under his eyes, but a slight weariness in them nonetheless.

_"Sir,"_ JARVIS called from the inside, signaling that the moment had passed, _"the last batch of calculations is complete."_

"Thanks, J," Tony murmured, then straightened and stretched. His neck cracked as he tilted his head from side to side. "Almost time," he mused and turned to go back inside, leaving Steve alone on the balcony, above the ocean, in the sunlight.

With a small sigh, Steve looked up at the blue sky one more time, then pulled back from the railing and followed Tony indoors. There was no one in the living room so he took the winding stairs downstairs to the workshop.

The room was lit by dozens of holograph screens working at full capacity. Steve could stare at them for hours, reading every line in order to figure out what they were about – and in most cases he would still remain clueless – whereas Tony's mind was pushing each screen around, scrolling past data, dismissing and discarding, editing and moving forward. Here, his body was at rest and his mind could wander around, never aimlessly but with such purpose it almost took Steve's breath away.

Part of him knew he would always want to be here, watching Tony work from one problem to the next, from one option here to another solution there; he would want to be here for Tony's failures and moments of rage when he would kick his chair across the room when nothing worked as he wanted it to.

He didn't want to leave Tony here alone, nor did he really want to go out into the world without him, either.

Steve knew that question could still wait, though.

"Almost there," Tony murmured, swirling his chair around and across the floor. He stilled, turned around again, closed his eyes and then clapped his hands, all screens and files disappearing. "Done," he declared, opening his eyes. "All in a day's work," he grinned. "Time to get going, Cap," he added and rose from the chair, leaving it there in the middle of the room.

Steve blinked himself out of his light reverie and nodded, turning to follow Tony up the stairs to the main floor. Every sound was muted, leaving them in a hushed silence. The balcony doors were closed, a barrier between them and the ocean, the sun and the wind.

"Ready?" Tony asked. His eyes were bright, mind primed for the next thing, and Steve nodded his acceptance.

_"Captain,"_ JARVIS spoke up, _"please close your eyes."_

_'I'll see you on the other side,'_ Tony's voice whispered in his mind, and the next time Steve opened his eyes, he felt the brief, cold drag inside his skull as a small Machine pulled the data probe from his brain. Steve allowed his body to settle for a second before sitting up; the surface beneath him was shifting, from a flat bed to a chair. It was probably supposed to be comfortable, but he never remained conscious long enough to find out.

He got to his feet as soon as he was certain the dizziness had passed, walking down the dimly lit corridor. It widened after a while, and he took a turn to the right, coming to a wider room. On both sides the walls were divided into sections, and in each section stood a slightly different Iron Man armor, their metal surfaces gleaming as he passed. In the middle of the room was a table, and on top of it lay his shield – exactly where he had placed it before entering the Matrix.

Steve grabbed the shield as he went by and continued towards a door on the other side of the long room. The door slid open without a sound and a cool breeze brushed against his skin. An open space spread out before him, without ceiling or walls. He could feel the slight vibration of the hull as he walked out, trying not to think of how high up they were.

When he came far enough away from the door, he spotted Tony already standing further off, right by the edge, unafraid of the heights. Steve joined him and took a look at the ugly black clouds spreading endlessly beneath them, crackling with electric charge. Up here, it wasn't as noticeable, and the thin air made his head spin a little. On the horizon, however, the sun was climbing higher, shining brightly, almost blindingly, and Tony stared at it, taking it all in.

Steve didn't know how much closer to an answer Tony had gotten tonight while his body rested and his mind took full advantage of the Matrix' connection to the Source. He had already learned this was Tony's favorite way of working; the real world felt slow to him, for some reason. Tony was less in control of his environment here.

"It's beautiful," Steve noted, like he did most mornings – and evenings, when the sun set and left them in darkness that reminded him of the tunnels and the barren earth below the clouds. However, up here they could see the stars, which was another kind of comfort entirely. As things used to be…

Tony nodded. "One day, we'll stand down there and see this. One day, it will all be better."

Steve knew it wouldn't be the same, but very few things in their lives were. _Close enough_, he decided.

**The End**


	13. FAN ART!

These are fan arts that have been contributed/inspired to the fic!

You guys are awesome, thank you so much!

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(ch 6) Fan art by _**merichuel**_:

s934 . photobucket . c0m /user/merichuel/media/2013-09-04170720_zpsf0df1c0b . jpg . html

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(ch 7) Fan art by _**Smaell** _(The-Lady-Smaell):

the-lady-smaell . deviantart . c0m /art/Good-Boy-Tony-and-the-Sentinel-God-Switch-399 618867

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_(remove spaces from links and replace c0m's 0 with o.)_


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